Sure the show pulls high ratings, provokes fevered discussion and might even be fun for its viewers. They've assembled a tight trio of judges with good natured rapport and enough of a comprehensive critical eye to weed through the shallow, fame-craving riff-raff . . . however . . . I am here to bury Idol, not to praise it! At most the show is a guilty pleasure, as hollowly insubstantial as it is trite. It's best fit as passive, ultimately forgettable recreation for a preadolescent audience with no other life concern except perhaps their schoolwork. The final irony is that all of the "American Idols" picked by the judges and the viewers, with the possible exception of Carrie Underwood, have sooner or later vanished from the formerly adoring public eye that created them! Despite this repeated repudiation of its mere existence, the ungainly behemoth that is American Idol nonetheless slouches towards us each seasonal cycle, waiting to be born anew in all its false idolatric 'splendor' . . .