Steven Tyler leaves American Idol in excruciatingly Steven Tyler-esque fashion
According to a press release statement that does a commendably amazing job of recreating the experience of actually listening to Steven Tyler talk, least-reliable Thundercat Steve-N Ty-Ler has decided to abandon American Idol to seek new adventures in outer space, which is really more or less what his statement says. Here it is:
After some long…hard…thoughts… [Please note that Mr. Tyler is slyly referring to his penis—ed.] I’ve decided it’s time for me to let go of my mistress American Idol before she boils my rabbit. I strayed from my first love, AEROSMITH, and I’m back—but instead of begging on my hands and knees, I got two fists in the air and I’m kicking the door open with my band. The next few years are going to be dedicated to kicking some serious ass—the ultimate in auditory takeover… On Nov 6, we are unleashing our new album, Music From Another Dimension on the Earth, Moon, Mars, and way beyond the stars…Idol was over the top fun, and I loved every minute of it…Now it’s time to bring Rock Back. ERMAHGERD."
Linguists claim that "ERMAHGERD" is the ironic conflation of "Oh my God" favored by the hip, media-savvy teenaged girls who are still the primary audience for Aerosmith, according to a poll of all Steven Tylers, and not an onomatopoeia representation of Tyler having a stroke after his brain left its own judge's chair out of embarrassment.
Tyler's statement was accompanied by a complementary, complimentary one from Fox spokesman Mike Darnell and Idol creator Simon Fuller that contained the words "tremendous honor" and "rock 'n' roll legend" and so on, with some adjectives and conjunctions and stuff. And of course, Tyler's departure has already refueled speculation that Jennifer Lopez might similarly leave the show, as well as those recent, TMZ-sparked rumors that American Idol might replace both of them with Charlie Sheen and Jerry Lewis, because frankly, it doesn't matter at this point. Maybe it's Mel Gibson and the dog from The Artist. Or Mark David Chapman and Lisa Lisa, But Not Cult Jam. Or Mike Tyson and a stack of buttery pancakes. Let's see!