Well, I don’t know about you, but I am becoming a big Chikezie fan.

At first, I was at a loss as to why this was. Then I realized… it was the week he put his own name in the song. As soon as he belted out “They call me chikezie baby..” I was hooked. And I believe, so are a lot of other americans. Or Hispanics. Maybe even David Hasselhoff.

So Chikezie did his thing. Tonight, he broke out the harmonica.

It sucked.

But it doesn’t matter.

He is Chikezie, and until he falls into the downward spiral of all the other forgotten cast offs of American Idol, I will hold him close to my heart. I will phone into his number to give him additional votes. I will tell friends and family I would buy his CD. (which I wouldn’t). I will try to convince, con, and push other people to vote for him too. His teeth may be too small, and his gums too big, but the kid can sing. He may have a lame watch/sweat band combo, but he hits the notes. He may rock a 1985 straight fade hairdo, but his songs rule. He is the man – and I will support him for the rest of the season while secretly rooting for others to win. He is, well, my idol. Why?

He’s Chikezie baby.