JOSEPH C. PHILLIPS: American Idol in Coolsville

*My buddy told me that I was rapidly losing cool points. I was updating him on the latest happenings on the television program American Idol when he broke the news. Apparently, being a fan of American Idol or more specifically being a big enough fan that you actually know the names of the contestants is desperately uncool. Honestly, I had been under the impression that my cool stock had been de-listed so I took the news that I was rapidly losing what few points I had left kind of hard. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t tell him I stayed up Saturday night watching “Dirty Dancing.”

As for Idol, I make no apologies. I have watched the program since the beginning. If I could wrangle some tickets to the live finale show, I would pack the family up and head on down to the Kodak Theatre. Nor am I alone in my Idol zeal. My entire family are fans and for my money there just aren’t enough programs a family with children can enjoy together.

Sure, there is plenty of children’s programming on television. I know because I am constantly battling my boys for the remote control. It is becoming increasingly difficult to bogard my way onto the sofa and switch the channel from some silly kids program to some silly alternative program. One day, the three of them will overpower me and gain permanent control of the television remote. That will be a sign that they are ready to be on their own. Until that time, I will continue to struggle to apprehend their attraction to most of the kiddy programming they watch. They are no doubt engaged in a similar struggle about the westerns that I am always trying to convince them to watch. On Tuesday nights, however, there is no battle for the remote control. After homework is completed and the kitchen cleaned, the kids pile into the bed with my wife and me and we tune into an hour of wholesome entertainment. I think that is pretty cool.

Of course, what my buddy finds so unsettling is not that I enjoy the time with my family; he is a family man himself. His eyebrows are raised that I actually enjoy the program.

Here again, I make no apologies. It is unclear to me why wholesome programming need be synonymous with square. I guess word of the current happening program has not trickled down to me yet. As a parent, there is so much to be concerned about. Each day, our children march off into a world of deviance and immorality waiting to steal their innocence. We try to armor them as best we can and still the madness somehow manages to find a way to attach itself to them. Hip is not always healthy. Therefore, I appreciate any program my kids can watch without me being concerned about the appropriateness of the content, any program that reinforces the fact that -- as the song says, “if there’s anything in life you want to do you need devotion. Can I get a right on?” Life in the big city takes both talent and hard work; one without the other gets you half as far. And sometimes hard work trumps talent.

But most of all the show is just plain fun.

Sure, at times one is liable to hear better singing at the local karaoke bar. However, we enjoy being in on the ground floor of careers like that of Academy Award winner Jennifer Hudson, Fantasia, (someone please give her the number to Beyonce’s song writer), Carrie Underwood, and even George Huff.

Cool or not, my family will continue to have our Tuesday night pajama party. We will continue to analyze the performances, cheer for our favorites and vote for Jordin Sparks because we love her voice and think she has about the prettiest smile we have ever seen. As the credits roll, there are kisses all around and then it’s off to bed. If that loses me my pass to coolsville, I’ve suffered worse.

Joseph C. Phillips is the author of “He Talk Like a White Boy” available wherever books are sold.