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I Should Replace Simon Cowell

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I mentioned this on Twitter and Facebook and got an unbelievably positive response. Three, maybe four people at least. So I've decided to really go for it.

I'm throwing my hat in the ring. I should replace Simon Cowell on American Idol. Crazier things have happened. Look who our governor is.

And I figure if enough HuffPost readers write to the producers on my behalf they'll eventually have to stop saying "who?" (You'll have to stop saying "who?" first.)

The truth is, being an unknown works to my advantage. Simon was an unknown when the show first premiered. It helps that the audience has no preconceptions. At first Simon was known merely as "that fucking guy." Ironically, that's what people call me. Even the ones who know me. Especially the ones who know me.

As for music credentials: I was a disc jockey for many years. No, I never produced records, wrote banal songs, or hosted my own daytime talk show but I can talk right up to the vocals. So I know what makes a hit record. I'd be critiquing the contestants from a whole new fresh angle. "Siobhan, that was a terrible song selection. How can anybody read the weather over that?"

This might lead to brand new theme nights. "Billboard Number One" weeks and "Sinatra" weeks are sooo old and tired. It's time to shake things up. I foresee ":12 second intro week," ":20 second intro week," and even "Top of the Hour ID" week.

Simon's replacement has to be brutally honest. Ever hear me talk about Andruw Jones on Dodger Talk? He's been gone for two years and just last night on the air I blamed him for the oil spill. Imagine what I could do to some sweet little 16-year-old waif who missed a note singing "The Lord's Prayer."

And then there's the flip side (more music jargon, I tell ya, I'm a natural): Simon also praises contestants if he feels they've earned it. So like Mr. Cowell, if she's cute and blond and has no tattoos I too plan to slather on the compliments.

I know from time to time I would have to spar with Ryan. But just as the members of the Algonquin Round Table felt they could hold their own in a battle of wits with the busboy, I'm reasonably confident I could handle Ryan Seacrest.

The producers always like it when there's some friction between the judges. So they would really love me. We wouldn't have to fabricate weenie little feuds like they've always done in the past. When I say "Jesus, Randy, do you really only know ten words?" or "Kara, I swear, if you say 'artist' one more time I'm going to jam your face into that Coke cup, " or "Ellen, does Portia even think you're funny?" there will be REAL fireworks! Watch the ratings soar! Cougar Town will be your bitch!

Again, I'm going to need your help, blogosphere. If everyone who reads this pathetic cry for attention merely enlists 12,000 of their closest friends to also call, or send in letters, or email, or Tweets, or texts (basic text messaging rates do apply and don't call until everyone has read the entire article) I think I'll have a good shot.

And maybe this will provide a little more incentive. If I get the job and you audition for me, just say "I contacted Simon Fuller at 8560 West Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, Ca. 90069 on your behalf" and I'll pick up on that secret code and send you through to Hollywood. What the hell? You can't be worse than Jason Castro.

American Idol needs help. I need help. It's the perfect marriage.

I thank you for your support.

Read more from Ken here.