I have been hooked on “The Voice” ever since it first came “on the air” five or six years ago. I believe it’s safe to say that I’ve never missed a single episode, albeit I’ve had to watch a few several hours after recording them because I was at a meeting or had something else going on that prevented me from being in front of the boob tube when the show was airing. I’ve also been known to skip out early from meetings so that I could get home to cheer on my favorite contestants.
And yes, I am one of those crazies who go online and vote, vote, vote when the show finally gets around to inviting America to start weeding down the list of contenders. However, I do lose out on voting during the last couple or three episodes when the television audience is given a scant two minutes to either “text” or “tweet” their votes.
I am among the dozen or so people in this country who have never texted or tweeted anything that involves the use of a cell phone, even though I packed around one of the things for over two decades. My favorite part of retirement is being cell phone free.
The only time I have regretted not having a cell phone, and not knowing how to tweet, was during the most recently ended season of “The Voice” when the ultra-pretty and super talented, Mary Sarah, who I still believe should have won the whole shebang, got knocked out in the semifinals because she was one tweet short of a tie for the three way sing-off.
To this day I am reasonably convinced that my inability to tweet cost Mary Sarah the championship. On the other hand I am also a big fan of Alisan Porter, the woman who did win it all even though I still feel badly for Mary Sarah.
In other tweeting news, I heard a story over the weekend that I can only retell after promising with a cross my heart and hope to die oath that I would mention no names nor reveal the setting in which I heard it.
This lady of a certain age and weight got up one Sunday morning, back in the spring and realized she was going to be late for church if she didn’t get a move on. She looked in the refrigerator and realized she had no milk to pour on the bowl of cheerios she had just set on the table.
However, right in front of her nose sat a small bowl of left-over pinto beans covered with saran wrap as well as a small stack of cornbread fritters. Even though it seemed a tad unorthodox she figured eating soup beans for breakfast would be alright as long as nobody else knew about it and she didn’t eat onions and have them on her breath when she got among the church crowd.
So she popped the bowl in the microwave for a couple of minutes, crumbled up a couple of the fritters in with the beans and thought to herself that the dish was at least as good as cold cereal, if not better, and that maybe she ought to do it more often because who was to know she’d done such a thing, as long as she kept it to herself.
About the time the song leader asked for all to stand to sing the first hymn, our heroine realized that the one thing she had to do anytime she ate soup beans was take a couple of Beano tablets immediately afterwards because she was terribly prone to flatulence if she failed to do so. She realized she had not taken her Beano right in the middle of that highest note in “How Great Thou Art.”
“That’s when I tweeted the first time,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure nobody heard it and, thank Heaven, nobody looked at my face because it was hot enough to cook on,”
She said, “Our preacher likes to get really loud. He hollers a lot and beats on the pulpit and makes so much racket that it was pretty easy to time my tweets so they’d be drowned out by all the noise he was making plus there’s one bunch that would yell “amen” if he sneezed or even if he, himself, tweeted out loud.”
However, he is real long-winded and I thought he’d never end that sermon. It had to be longest one I’ve ever sat through. But if anybody heard me tweeting, they never let on like it,”
She said, “The very first thing I did when I got home was take a couple of Beanos and then I put the bottle in my purse. And it’ll stay right there, too, because I don’t ever want to get caught in a fix like that again. “
That’s when I realized that I knew more about tweeting than I thought I did and that I don’t really need a cell phone every time I need to tweet. Unfortunately that’s not the sort of tweet that would count for much when it comes to voting on “The Voice.”
Reach longtime Enterprise columnist Ike Adams at [email protected] or on Facebook or 249 Charlie Brown Road, Paint Lick, KY 40461.