Take heed, coastal Americas.
For months and weeks, you have been threatened by something more awful, more vile, more dangerous to Mother Gaia than terrorism, human-induced climactic change, and a John Edwards bad tresses day combined.....the possibility that Sanjaya could win American Idol.
Many of you have begged, have pleaded, that this hair-borne creature, obviously the love child of the Prince of Darkness and Nicole Richie, be sent away, far, far away, lest our civilization collapse and we become the target of UN sanctions to punish us for encouraging musicide.
Star after star after star sallied forth, trying to cut down this raging monster. Not even the dulcet tones of Tony Bennett could soothe it. Not even the ass of Jennifer Lopez could draw it off the stage. Not even the hairstyles of Gwen Stefani could terrify the horrid creature, which week after week after week made little children cry and otherwise-rational adults stare and cry out in horror at the ongoing lyrical train wreck.
But then....an angel appeared. Saint Martina.....a mother...a native of the homeland....a pure and blinding light that overcame the darkness, that banished the beast to the hellish abyss of pay-per-view television where it belongs. With the sword of gleaming tone, with the shield of correct intonation, and with the cleansing power borne of wholesome Middle American music and values....we were once again made whole. Healed. Fresh and beautiful once again, the mark of the Sanjaya beast purged from our foreheads and global apocalypse averted.
Take heed, America. Turn from your wicked, pop-loving ways and worship that which is good and uniquely ours. Change your buttons, reset your iTunes, and follow.
For if you do not......it may return.