The Karaoke Master Can Now Reveal His Secrets

I am the Master of Karaoke.

People often ask me how I can make such bold statements without ever having to prove that I am the Master of Karaoke. Contests happen on a weekly basis across this great country of ours and the people who win those contests walk away with free dinners and money. And still, they can’t touch me. While they’re eating their free cheesecake and fries — I am still, the Master of Karaoke.

A lot of times, children who are still in their formative years (or Elementary School) stop me on the street and ask me how I got to where I am today. How much training does it take to become the Master of Karaoke? Do I have any sort of mentoring program that they can apply for? Do they have to have a high school diploma to take part in the schooling? Was there one defining moment that shaped my life and pointed me in the direction of Masterdom of Karaoke-dom? Some ask to see my papers, as if the Master of Karaoke has papers. It is not a title of men and constitutions… It is a title of soul and spirit. Of poetry and rhythm. Of mozzerella cheese sticks.

My set list varies. My stable of singers does not. I limit myself to Billy Joel and Neil Diamond and Billy Vera & The Beaters and Dee-Lite. I perfect my instincts, practice my scales and always remember to wear something spicy for the women.

Recently, there has been a lot of anger directed towards me and my title. People are clamoring to see my printed credentials as if I was a Doctor or Lawyer. And so, I am forced to go out and manufacture my “card”, laminating it in high-glossy plastic, shrink-wrapping it so the sheen will not fade; like my tenure as the Master of Karaoke.

It’s been getting me down, lately — this failure in the “singing, but not really singing” world of Karaoke. Just like the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus, the Master of Karaoke is now being strung up so that people can strip him of his mystery, and reveal him for what he really is. But when they have stripped everything from me, and they see that all is left is a man with passion for pretending to sing really well like professional folk they will drop to their knees and bow in reverence… For then, and only then will they have seen the true spirit of mocking plagarism while being intoxicated at a local watering hole.

Until then, I will get on this laminated business card of sorts, so the next time someone asks to see my Official Master of Karaoke credentials – I will whip out my wallet and shove it in their face.

And then, that’ll shut them up. Once and for all.