It’s farewell night at American Idol, and Ryan Seacrest is standing there with Jason and Syesha, who are holding hands and biting their lower lips.
“America voted,” Ryan intones. “And Jason … (38 second pause for dramatic effect) … your journey ends here.” The audience goes wild. Jason just grins. They cut to the montage showing Jason’s finest moments from the show and then he sings “Mr. Tambourine Man” again, this time forgetting the melody instead of just a verse.
“Good luck in your future endeavors,” Ryan says. “That’s all for tonight. Next week, it’s Vanilla Ice night on American Idol and … ” He notices Jason is still standing beside him, still grinning. “Uh, Jason. Sweetheart. You lost, man. The exit is over there.”
Jason shakes his head ruefully. “I’m a fighter, Ryan. I’m staying in this race until there is an American Idol, and obviously I’m going to work as hard as I can to become that American Idol.”
Ryan just stares. “The thing is, Jason, you got the least amount of votes. Did you not hear me say that? You’re out. Gone. Finito. Hasta la vista. Catch you on the flip side.”
Jason shrugs. “Whatever, man. But I’m staying in the race because the polls show I’m the only one who speaks to the concerns of libidinous white middle-aged moms who have been known to smoke a little weed themselves.”
Ryan: “What the hell are you talking about? Once more: America. Voted. You need to lay off the bong, man.”
Jason: “I believe that I’m the stronger candidate against David Archuleta. And I believe I would be the best Idol among the four of us running.”
Ryan: “You mean three. Can we get security in here?”
Jason: “If we had the rules Dancing with the Stars had, I’d be the winner. We have a much more complicated process.”
Ryan: “So you’re really not leaving? Even though your lifelong mentor Bob Marley has spoken from beyond the grave and endorsed your rival, whom many of us refer to as The Boy From the Planet Zontar?”
Jason: “No. I’m not. “
Inconspicuous nonconsumption