not guilty: bryan adams

as difficult as it may be to believe, Karaoke to the Death has not always been the majestic celebration of bad singing we know and love today.  in its early years, it was a decidedly more modest affair.  the initial contest featured only two participants.  if memory serves correctly, year two saw only five people take the stage.  in 1969 a brash young quarterback from the new york jets named el cap-e-t--  er, joe namath, made good on his guarantee of victory and launched a fledgling football game humbly called "the Super Bowl" into the forefront of american consciousness.  similarly, it would require three years for KttD to really take off.  and take off it did.

the third year of Karaoke to the Death was a high-water mark for the sport.  this was the year the decision was made to acquire a trophy, of some kind, to bestow upon the eventual champion.  the field nearly doubled from the previous year.  the level of competition was at its highest level to date, and some say possibly ever.  and yet everyone was devastated - in a unanimous decision - by the dark horse contestant bill ramsey.  it was the last knockout KttD would ever see, and it ushered in what is now referred to as the "modern era" of Karaoke to the Death.  and because the game is bigger now than we might have ever imagined that fateful evening of february 18, 2001, it's more important than ever not to lose sight of our humble origins.  history will always remember that the green bay packers are three-time super bowl champions, despite that two of those victories occurred prior to the jets' watershed game.  and KttD will always remember its trailblazing early champions.

(editors' note: we have it on good authority - from the man himself - that in the event of a dabysan victory in 2007, he will attempt to usurp falsely KttD glory from its established champions.  to wit: he plans to celebrate his victory as "the first two-time KttD champion of the modern era."  and we are calling bullshit.  this post is in no small part a shameless attempt to undermine this specious argument before it ever gets off the ground.  not that it will matter anyway, 'cause daby ain't winnin'.  but it's just easier to get this out in the open right now.)

and so, to year one: there was no agonizing over songs.  there were no strategies.  there probably weren't even any cameras.  there were just two men, a stage, and a book of songs.  we each knew our first songs before we arrived, and neither was calculated to be especially bad, but were just songs we wanted to sing: "margaritaville," for daby, and "friends in low places" for me.  second songs were chosen on the fly.  i don't recall daby's second song.  hell, i barely recall my second song.  i do remember, though, being intoxicated enough to miss the cue for one of the great opening lines in all of popular music, but not intoxicated enough that i couldn't remain bipedal and somewhat coherent through the rest of the song.  and that, my friends, was - is - the KttD sweet spot.  when i look back now, that evening seemed to last forever.  those were the best days of my life.