So you think I wish I was deaf?

Alright then - one more So You Think You Can Dance post. Can't help it - this and Hell's Kitchen are my shows of the summer, and if I can't devote as much space to either show as I'd like in my column, I might as well bore you to death with it here.

My beef of the night: I must really love this show, because most of the music is effing dreadful. I mean punch-to-the-temple, chopstick-in-the-ear dreadful. Tonight the lowlights on the elimination show were tunes by Ani DiFranco and Jason Mraz, chosen as the soundtrack to the routines the bottom six dancers danced to convince the judges not to eliminate them. The song choice alone would deserve a ticket home if I were Nigel Lythgoe. I'm just sort of a jerk that way.

Why does no one choose Dylan, or the Gang of Four, or Black Flag, or Tim Buckley if they feel an overwhelming need to seem sensitive or somesuch? Why is whiny, amelodic, rhythmic twaddle pop to the top of the queue when dancers choose tunes? It isn't a rhetorical question.