You Can’t Judge a Book by It’s Cover

I watch America’s Got Talent every summer. It’s one of my favorite things about the summer TV hiatus. I like to think of it as a kinder, gentler version of American Idol. Plus it hearkens back to the variety shows of my childhood which I dearly loved.

This fellow (he’s not really a “gentleman”, per se), Kevin Skinner, was on the show Tuesday night. I have several observations on his performance.

Primarily, Mr. Skinner has got to be one of the most endearing, humble men I’ve seen on this show in a long time. Quite refreshing, actually. And, yes… amusing as all hell. Though I did think it very rude and unprofessional of Sharon Osborne to laugh at his accent when he said “Garth Brooooooks” with that deep Tennessee twang. I had to shelve the whole judgmental thing when he said he was a chicken catcher,though, because then I was laughing out loud, too.

Really? People have that job? Unbidden visions of Chicken George (I don’t KNOW why) and my too often used metaphor of “herding chickens” when attempting to get my kids (and Daddy’O) somewhere en masse sprang to mind. Not attractive visuals.

All in all, I was feeling very bad for Mr. Kevin Skinner, ex-chicken catcher (10,000 chickens per night, oh my!) who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Then he sang to me.

Since I’m acting on the assumption that you’ve watched the video you know exactly what I’m talking about when I say “he sang to me.” Garth Brooks, himself never did as fine a job with that song – never made me feel as if he were holding my hand at the end of our bed pouring out his heart to me in verse. Never have I heard laughter stop so abruptly.

I believe Keving Skinner’s days of catching chickens are over. My pleasure for him is tainted only by the fear that his country simplicity may open him up to much more laughter before his singing can silence it.


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