My first reaction is to point at said questioner and, in my best, most thunderous Moses voice, proclaim various damnation's, from the plague of inflatable toes to turning their energy drinks into harmless and healthy water.
Actually, this is done primarily through a change in my body language as my shoulders ratchet up to my ears and my face contorts much like an astronaut going through a g-force simulator. One time a concerned student saw my reaction and cautiously approached me, put a hand on my shoulder and genuinely asked, "Mr. H? You okay?"
Yeah, I don't like American Idol. No, really. There is nothing in my soul that cares a wisp of monkey fodder for this juggernaut of entertainment. "But," you may ask, "what's wrong with people wanting to pursue their passions? To follow their dreams?" Well, nothing. Except if everyone were to follow their dreams then I would currently be trying to get a baby elephant to swim around in my bowl of tomato soup...seeing as how that was one of my most recent dreams.
"Don't be stupid," you might rightly say, "I'm talking about real dreams." Well, me too. The difference is that I know when my dreams should never, ever, see the light of day, let alone be projected via satellite to every boobtube in the world. I'm sorry but that's where I draw my line.
"Oh, come on. Now you're being difficult. Besides, some people go on Idol just to make fun of themselves. That's why I watch it; to see how bad some of the people are."
Granted, but I have a problem with that.
I watched Idol once and I immediately got the feeling that I was watching "rush week" at Fox Beta Moo (or some such frat/sorority). People were doing anything, literally anything, to get the approval of the senior(!) brothers and sisters.
And this is how I think Simon Cowell really got the idea for the show: One night, while sitting on the porch of his frat house, Simon and a few of his cronies (who may or may not have been Paula and Randy) started heckling, rating, criticising, and ogling every freshman wishing/wanting/nay hoping to get to hear the phrase shouted at them, "Welcome to Hollywood, baby!"
Nobody wants that. Correction: nobody should want that. If people really thought happiness and dream-coming-true-ness was found on a stage in front of caustic Beta males
Dreams and happiness are too important to leave up to a panel of judges and a nation of tweens and teens with a cellphone and nothing better to do.