Day 4 of Idol is upon us and I feel like I have been here for 6 1/2 weeks. We’ve seen Michigan Man go insane and quit for no reason after an unprovoked, day long meltdown. We’ve seen Tate, the cockiest contestant by far, crack under the pressure of a bad standup set and send himself home.
How LeBron of you, Tate. Sure, you were playing chess, but you flipped the board over like a 6 year old once you encountered the slightest bit of adversity.
The craziest part about these two specific eliminations is that Dave was a pretty vocal fan of both contestants. Your boss regularly retweets you and openly praises you at elimination and you quit before you’re even out of the running? Delusion at it’s finest.
Of course, it was a big positive for me. I’ve been less than noticeable before last night’s standup challenge, so two juggernauts losing their marbles and dropping out of the race was massive.
After I almost got axed on the second day, I was deep in the dumps. The night prior, I stayed up til 2:30 AM blogging and showed up an hour early. I made an appearance on Barstool Breakfast and took Francis and Willie’s shit pretty well. I came up with the ‘K’s for Sale’ tee shirt that was well-received, which is fly as hell and can be purchased right HERE.
Somehow, I survived. Once we got back to the house, I took a walk, payed for liquor through bulletproof glass, and drank on the sidewalk out of a brown paper bag for about an hour and a half wearing a Snuggie. Hitting rock bottom was a necessary evil.
With nothing to lose, I figured I might as well go out on my own terms. All week we’ve been doing group challenges—which are essentially dick-swinging contests where we all yell over each other—and it’s been hard to show my strengths. As a result, I felt pressured and abandoned my instinct, catering to what I thought Barstool would think is funny instead of what I truly think is funny. I knew that if I thought what I was writing was funny, I would be happy with losing. I figured that a roast would at least give me a chance to throw some jabs back.
I wrote quick, concise jokes that I thought had some pretty good kick. Setup, punchline, bang, bang. Nothing too wordy, straight to the point. I don’t know how it happened, but it worked. I bullied my way into another day at Barstool.
The only negative thing they had to say was about my reluctance to go dark. I just didn’t want to risk bombing on an offensive joke that was more abusive than it was funny, but they saw it as a weakness.
Honestly, it was a bittersweet insult. Bitter because it was an insult, but sweet because now I have the green light to dance along the line off darkness as close as I want. Making jokes about a physically disabled kid being aborted is just the beginning.
Now, it’s day 4 and I’m somehow still alive. I’ve still got two dragons to slay in Marty Mush and Condition, who are clearly leading the competition. It’s going to be a long, long night.
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