You want to be famous. You go on a television show called American Idol, and do quite well - you actually are swept to victory on a wave of public affection.
Are you happy now you're famous beyond your wildest dreams, David Cook?
Is the adulation of the crowd delighting you?
No. No, it turns out not.
"I have to address some behavior that has become disturbing. We pride ourselves on being accessible to you as fans, but in contrast, we do enjoy what little privacy we can muster. To that end, the efforts by some fans to find our hotel rooms, call our hotel rooms, attach things to our bus, etc., is something I have to condemn."
Not "ask you to stop doing". Not "would rather you didn't". He's condemning it.
Obviously, Cook won't have to worry about people trying to find his hotel room for long - indeed, if he keeps up this sort of thing, he'll be easy to find when on tour as he'll be staying in the only Motel6 in town. Should there be anyone left wanting to seek him.
What did you think being a big pop star would be like, David? Did you think people would only be interested for sixty minutes a week? Did you really think that it was like working behind the counter at the butchers?
Of course, had you built your own career up, you might have had a chance to get used to having fans following you; if it all got a bit much you could have decided to stay as a big fish in your local circuit.
You got what you wished for. You got it short-circuited. Stop whining.