American Idol S8 Semifinals Ep4 Break Up to Make Up

Sometimes this show decides to remind me just why I love it so much. And for that I am very grateful. I have to begin with the end in mind, kittens, because last night AI made a blind man dance . . . with his cane . . . for my amusement. And suddenly, all was right with the world. Noodles, that three second clip almost totally redeemed White Stevie Wonder in my eyes, and I know that will go away as soon as he starts singing because he can’t, but god would I pay folding money to see that kid in a Ford Focus pimpmercial. And it could be him and Adam and Danny and Danny could be wearing a pin with his dead wife’s face on it sticking his head out the back window and singing I Believe in a Thing Called Love like it’s some kind of inspirational hymn while Adam was driving and head banging to The Darkness and making creepy sex faces at White Stevie Wonder who’s sitting in the front side passenger seat totally oblivious to the chaos going on around him and then they pass Allison and Michael Sarver and the world’s cutest baby waiting at the bus stop and Gokey asks White Stevie something stupid like “Isn’t that He-Man Oilman and Manic Panic over there?” and White Stevie just smiles and nods ‘cause what does he know and then Adam pulls over and jumps out grabbing his crotch all suggestively and shoves the chola and the oilman into the back seat and as they all drive off, Manic Panic pops out of the moon roof and screams, “I’m so freakin’ happy right now.”

Whoo. OK, I’m back, y’all. See how little it takes for this show to make me so very, very happy?

And I know it wasn’t all gravy last night. Can we deal with the group sing? Not even the pointy pose could’ve saved it. First of all, Ne-yo? Yeah, no. This was always going to end bloody. I appreciate that the show is trying to be more current with the group sings this season, but please can they at least try to consider whether or not the song would actually sound good as sung by a choir? The girls were a’ight. The boys sounded like ass. And the cognitive dissonance of Serial Killer dressed for a quick trip to Walmart stomping ineptly next to Hair Monster in a white t-shirt embossed with a skinny tie for pity’s sake along with Adam doing the creepy sex thing all over the stage and hitting on Matt G. and Nick/Norman indiscriminately while Kris unleashed his dorky white man dance on Jesse’s posterior and Jeanine stomped around in suspendered hot pants, Frye boots and a plaid lumberjack shirt that was clearly from the children’s section and had been spray painted onto her caused my entire mind to be blown to the extent that I completely missed the recap of the previous night which was probably all to the good.

And yes, today’s post may just be a series of oddly strung together run on sentences. That’s how bizarre last night’s show was. I simultaneously loved and hated it. I mean, I had to listen to Judge #4 prattle and whine and Karababble, but at the same time I got to witness the holy trinity unite in almost unrelenting contempt for Kara Diodoyouseehowmuchweallhateyou which was deliciously yummy. I really think Simon moved so that he and Paula could plot her eventual demise. I had to hear goat voiced loser, Matt G., complain about how he hadn’t had his chance yet while at the same time seeing him eat the bitter ashes of his ambitions as he watched Adam be awesome and the most overtly sexual creature to ever don too tight pants on a family show and the schadenfreude was scrumptious like Baskin Robbins peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. I had to hear Kris do unspeakable things to Man in the Mirror and be somehow even worse than the first time when he was already abysmal but then I got Brooke White being tremendous and awesome and glowingly beautiful and doing that Carly Simon thing to death. No wonder I’m so discombobulated.

Could I have done without the yards and yards of filler? Of course, noodles. We didn’t need to see the Wonderful World clip package yet again. The season started like a minute ago and I don’t have short term memory loss. But overall, thoroughly pleased both with who got through (although I’d have taken Jesse over Kris) and with who didn’t (Bye bye Goat Boy and Tattoo Sleeve – although bet that at least one of these two will be back for the wild card round).

And I’m quite looking forward to Group three. For the ladies we’re going to get awesome Lil Rounds, who, with any luck, has remembered that she’s an actual great singer and doesn’t need to scream at us. Taylor Vaifanua is going to be giant and gorgeous and hopefully continue the Some Kind of Wonderful streak of magic and rainbows. I don’t know Felicia Barton at all but she saved us from Joanna Pacitti and for that I already love her a little. And yes, I have watched her spectacular youtube clip, so I have faith that she can bring it. For the fellas, Jun’ot Joyner is going to try to break the color line in the S8 men’s pool and will most likely not be dressed in a pumpkin pimp suit. Alex Wagner Trugman almost killed me with the cuteness of his geek dancing and beyond just being overall marvelous, kid can blow as I recall. Somebody’s got to take the geek spot. May as well be him. And Vonn Smith will be back to scream at us some more, which will either be terrific or tragic but will definitely not be boring. So there’s lots to love. And equal amounts to hate. And y’all know I live to hate. Loud PR boy, too gay to function Nathaniel and White Stevie Wonder will give me occasion. And I don’t even know Arianna Asfar, barely remember Kendall Barbie, and Kristin, well, that’s just hate waiting to happen.

And all this without even taking into account what the judges will spring upon us for the wildcard show. Four hours until the real fun begins.

American Idol S8 Semifinals Ep3 Worst Semifinal Episode of AI. Ever.

Kittens, I love AI more than rappers love Hennessy, so it pains me to say what I’m about to say. I want my two hours back. I want to unsee last night’s episode. It was worse than bad, because bad is good in AI land. Bad is Sanjaya raping the Kinks and freaking Gwen Stefani so far out that I don’t think she’s ever been right again. Bad is Chicken Little singing Part Time Lover and John Stevens looking like he’s heading off to the firing squad on Gloria Estefan night. Bad is Constantine eye-fucking his way through Bohemian Rhapsody and Camille forgetting every one of the 50,000 words in Goodbye to Yellow Brick Road. Bad is anything Nikki McKibbin ever did on this show. And that shit is brilliant. But last night? Last night was boring. Last night was not even bad enough to be interesting. And that is a killer for this show. When it stops being a train wreck and turns into me switching between the show and reruns of Will and Grace, then y’all, shit is bad. We’re halfway through the semi-finals and there are exactly two people that I’m in love with, one of whom is technically not in the Top 12 yet. And I’m so mad about that, I could spit nails. I mean, talk about crappy bad luck for Anoop, Ricky . . . hell even Tatiana was better last week. It’s tight around here, noodles.

But you know what made me really scared for this show? The judges were on fire last night. They had one cracked out, producer manipulated moment (Throwing Jesse under the bus like that. How could you?) but for the most part, they told these kids some home truths. Paula passed up an opportunity to do her sunshine and rainbows thing to kick it to Simon so he could crush a child’s dream. Randy got in a supremely awesome burn on Jeanine Vailes that made me laugh out loud. Hell, even the Karababble halfway made sense and was relevant and on point most of the night. All surefire signs that the apocalypse is upon us. Not even the Dawg’s pitiful mini-medallion or Paula’s maxi-wig and icicle shirt could make me hate on the judge’s panel. It’s a crazy, mixed up world we’re living in. So without further ado, I give to you the three people who were actually worth even a little something last night and then everyone else we hated and why.

Shine-ola

Allison Iraheta/Alone – I maintain that no one should ever sing this song on the Idol stage since Carrie officially made it her bitch in season 5. That said, Manic Panic Chola threw down on this performance. I was really impressed. This song is ridiculously range-y, and yet I never felt like she was scraping along her lower register. And the belt-y parts, well, that little girl is packing a whole lotta voice. On the flip side, she needs media training more than anyone in the history of ever. That pre-song interview session with Ryan was painful, as was the after-song patter. I was uncomfortable. And with the pressure of the season, I fear that she’s only going to get worse, not better. Yet another example of why 16 year olds have no business on this show. But whatever. For now, Manic Panic is rocking my world. She and Anouk are my main reasons for having a glimmer of hope for the Top 12.

Adam Lambert/Satisfaction – Kiddies, check the numerous rings and the five million swap meet chains. Look at the single, fingerless glove. My god, this fool was so over the top and I loved every second of it! Finally, at the tail end of the night when even Judge #4 was tired of saying “commercial” or “package” one more time, we got excitement. We got drama. We got a performer. To which I say, hell, yeah! Was Simon right that it was kind of exhausting and bombastically gross in ways that made me feel unsettled that I liked it so much? Well, of course it was, kittens. But that’s what’s good and right about this show, in the same way that Nick/Norman Mitchell/Gentle is the ugly flipside of this very same coin. Mr. Wicked knows that he is patently gaudy and ridiculous and he invites us to share in it, too, with a wink and a crotch grab. And the boy can just flat out blow. I did not need for him to shout at me, but I loved it when he did. And I’m sure I’ll be over this fool eventually, and maybe I wouldn’t have loved that so much if everyone else last night hadn’t been so terribly, tragically boring. But for now at least, I appreciated that somebody came to play.

Jesse Langseth/Bette Davis Eyes – Kiddies, there really was something magical about that Some Kind of Wonderful group during Hollywood Week, no? I’ve been grooving on this girl ever since then, and she did not disappoint. This was by far the best song choice of the night, perfect for her voice and her vibe. And I loved the performance, the look, the hair, everything. I loved everything about it. And then the judges came in with the undersell of the century. You could see Simon Fuller pulling the puppet strings here, fighting to get his tattoo sleeved package into the Top 12 despite her lackluster singing and heinous dancing. And seriously, the worst that the judges could say is that she was too cool? I mean, I’ll grant that the song doesn’t show off a ton of range, but it is a super hard song to sing, which is why people not named Kim Carnes rarely try to sing it. So give her her props and stop sandbagging her, mmmkay?

Shit

So we have a couple of levels to shovel out from under, noodles. There were those that I wanted to be good, but sadly were not; those that I had no opinion about before and deservedly so; and those that I hated and knew would be bad and sure as shootin’ were bad. Let’s take them in that order.

Jasmine Murray/Love Song – As soon as this was announced as the pick, I knew that it was not going to go well with this young one. The song started out way too low for her, which caused the whole thing to be slightly under the key. And honestly, this was so the wrong song for her. I hate to sound like the broken record that song choice has become this season, but really, you cannot “black up” this song. All right thinking people must say "no" to the unnecessary runs and trying to riff on the melody. The charm of this song is in its simplicity. Sit at a piano and sing it straight and earnestly. This song will not show up on your urban radio, I don’t care how many extra notes you shove into the word “love”. Sigh. And the sad thing is that she’s still just as cute as a button with her plastered on make up. I totally agreed with the judges that with a few more years of seasoning under her belt she would not have made the mistake that’s going to get her eliminated. She might’ve made another one and wound up like the 28 year old street walker we’ll get to in a minute, but she wouldn’t have made this one. Reason #5,000,000,000 why 16 year olds should not be put on this show. Bye, bye cutie pie. I’ll see you in the pages of King magazine.

Jeanine Vailes/This Love – I was excited for this girl, kittens, purely because they kept showing us clips of her sitting around being ridiculously beautiful. It quickly became apparent why they never showed her actually singing, but before we get into that, can we deal with the look? Because seriously, kiddies, that wasn’t even right. She’s a beautiful girl and they made her look like . . . well, like a street walker. The troweled on make up with the base that wasn’t even the right shade and made her look like she was about to do some awesomely tragic Kabuki theater? The blow out? Why, AI? Obviously, you have no black people on your hair and make up staff. Please get some, stat. And the clothes. Ladies, when your blazer is longer than your shorts, something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. This is a family show. We don’t want to see your hooha. My mind was screaming before she even opened her mouth. And then out came this non-song. Now, I actually enjoy Maroon 5. Not so much that I would ever buy any of their output or monetarily support them in any way, but I appreciate the pretty and the kinda pop distraction of their music. But it really only works because Adam Levine is a supremely lovely white boy in that particular, girly way that some white boys have where you know that even though they don’t look like it, they can totally get down in bed and that kind of incongruity is dead sexy. And this song works because of that whole Adam Levine thing, not because it’s an actual good song. So out comes this terrible song with the cheesy arrangement that, I assume, is just the industry staple this year and then this caterwauling voice that let’s you know that Little Simon pushed this pick through from the jump, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. And what else is there really to say about this performance? Alright, then.

Serial Killer/Some Song I Don’t Know – Y’all, Matt Brietzke has a pleasant bar band singer voice which, on a show that just gave us a winner with a pleasant bar band singer voice last season, should be enough to get him a ticket to the Top 12. So, it’s a damn shame that this fool looks like a serial killer. Kittens, you know it’s bad when even his baby looks like a serial killer. I mean, seriously, I would not let my child go down the slide with that kid. It might come back missing a limb. So along came Matt last night singing some bland, mid-tempo song in a workmanlike way and in tune, which was a rare gift with that particular group of contestants, and what happens? I couldn’t even look at him. Grinning and covered in flop sweat and looking like he wanted to eat my liver. Nightmares, y’all. Nightmares. It wouldn’t have mattered what he sang, because I just really cannot deal with him. I’ll be so glad when he goes.

Kris Allen/Man in the Mirror – I have no memory of this kid from earlier rounds, which is really his problem in a nutshell. Put aside that he picked perhaps the worst song from the late MJ pre-Jesus Juice/Vitiligo on the penis era and that he rocked the D’archie style Member’s Only jacket, this kid has no sparkle. He’s pretty enough, and his in tune to flat ratio was better than a lot of the 24 kids we’ve seen so far. But I found nothing compelling in that performance or in the jumpy, squat dancing or in the squinched up faces he was making. Paula might have loved it, but I think her weave was obstructing her hearing just a touch. And Simon sometimes just likes to throw salt in the game. And he will forgive a lot for the pretty, male or female, as will I, which is why we get on so famously. I wouldn’t be opposed to this kid getting a wild card and another shot to win me over. I just doubt that he could do it.

Mishavonna Henson/Drops of Jupiter – Another one who I had no prior memory of, and she sang a song previously performed by Ace Young, which automatically brings up questions for me about her taste level. And she couldn’t even cheesily point to the scar on her chest while singing the line about the permanent scar, so if you’re already not going to be able to top an Ace Young performance, then, friends and fans, you are in some serious trouble. So she had a pretty voice and she sang and she didn’t fall off pitch until the very, very end there and she stood around in her bubble skirt/black capri leggings combo outfit and bored me to tears. The entire performance was completely uninteresting and her lack of star quality caused Simon and Paula to fall back into their inappropriate sexual shenanigans which is wholly unacceptable. And now if the judges do bring her back for the wild card round, she will break her neck to prove that she’s “zany” and “young” and overflowing with “personality” and she will tip all the way over into annoying and crazy and she won’t make the Top 12 anyway. So, I hope that the judges save us all a lot of time and trouble by not bringing her back for the wild card round (since ain’t no way she’s getting voted in) even though she technically had the fourth best vocal of the night. Don’t you agree?

And now for the straight up hating portion of our show which is fully one third of the contestants that we saw last night, and kittens, that’s so sad. It’s like Group Two was specially designed to hurt my feelings.

Matt Giraud/Viva La Vida – I hate this kid so much and his out of control, goat-y vibrato and his whole white boy soul vibe. Ugh. Jerky and uncomfortable was how Simon described the performance but that could just as easily describe the whole Matt Giraud persona. And I was going to say something about why this song only works for Coldplay, but the truth is that this song just doesn’t work and it continually baffles me that it became a big hit. I blame Apple (the company and the kid). So anyway, hate the song, hate Matt Giraud. Go back to your dueling piano bar. You are dismissed. (Of course, I’m petrified that he’ll get through now)

Megan Corkery/Put Your Records On – I hate this girl so much and her white girl faux jazz funk vibe and her tattoo sleeve rebel shtick. I know the judges look at this girl and smell money, but I cannot take her and her ridiculous flailing and her white pom pom twirling and ballet flats and out of tune, all nasally up in her nasal singing. She sucks tremendous amounts of ass. She even picked a song designed to make it OK to not be able to sing very well. (Thanks, Corinne Bailey Rae! If I ever meet you in a dark alley, you best guard your grill) And still, she managed to sound terrible while smiling at me with her big white teeth. So of course I’m petrified she’ll get through. Kiddies, it could so easily wind up Adam, Matt and Megan tonight rather than Adam, Allison and Jesse as the lord intended. And if that happens, I will have to start breaking dishes and go all ring the alarm on America. You have been warned.

Kai Kalama/What Becomes of the Broken Hearted – The hair monster continued to be no better than a subway singer. If I walked by him, I might flip a quarter into his guitar case, but he only has a fair to middlin’ voice and he’s never, never, ever going to be a star. As Paula so wonderfully explained, he was on pitch during that performance, except when he wasn’t (And don’t ever change Pau Pau. We love you!) but Simon was right, as usual. This fool’s a back up singer, at best. Mom? Still gorgeous. At least he’ll always have that.

Nick/Norman Mitchell/Gentle/And I Am Telling You – Whatever its faults, the show is better than this.

So it should be easy tonight. Adam, Allison and Jesse were the only three who didn’t commit some horrible crime against music. But having seen the shadiness that landed He-Man Oilman a Top 12 slot over Anoop, who knows what America has wrought? We’ll find out in a couple of hours, though I don’t know if I’m ready for a group sing if this is the group. A true test of the power of the pointy pose awaits.

American Idol S8 Semifinals Ep2 Is That All There Is?

AI used to be the best at manipulation. They could teach MI-6 spies and Mossad assassins some things about ratcheting up the tension to the point where the pain is excruciating. Masters of faking the funk. But oh, Kittens, this cupboard is bare and aren't we all way worse off than poor Ol' Mother Hubbard's dog now? What little suspense there was in this first results show episode flew right out the window once our He-Man Oilman, Michael Sarver (Nee Jeremy and sweet vindication for your humble blogger, yes!) put his well worn boot all up in sweet Anouk's ass. Never underestimate the redneck vote, noodles. And then all we were left with was hours and hours of filler and bad singing and frikkin' Michael Johns and his sweaty face and too tight jacket and Carly and her continuing desperate desire to be a star at all costs and her ratty weave. (Hey, she brought it up - with an extra helping of racist. I hope Asian people just roll up on her in the street and randomly beat the crap out of her) And Tatiana kind of awesomely refusing to have a psychotic break as Ryan poked and prodded in the gaping cracks in her sanity. And Gokey working my every last nerve with his white Gazel's and his irritating friends holding up pictures of his still dead wife and . . . oh my lord, how I loathed this episode, darlings. Almost more than I can articulate.

Did we really need the sing ins? The only reason the sing outs work at all is that you get crazy contestants on the verge and you never know what they'll do. Remember Leslie Hunt's "America don't care for jazz?" Good times. But these sing ins are pointless. They can only be a pale copy of the original. Witness tonight. Sing outs work because all the pressure is off and even the worst contestants can just have fun and go full throttle. Who gives a damn? They're done. But the poor noodles tonight had to justify their newly minted position in the Top 12, and it got the best of them, most awfully of He-Man Oilman who managed to somehow be worse than the night before.

Did we really need to bring back two of the most underachieving, charisma free contestants from S7? Kiddies, you know that I am in general against anyone but the contestants performing on AI, especially this early in the season, but I will admit that this has sometimes worked. J-hud coming back and destroying I Am Changing. Carrie blowing the doors off George Michael's Praying for Time and making me like that mindless drivel. A nearly deranged, red clad 'Tasia. Clay meeting his succubus doppelClay. But more often than not, it's Kat McPhee and a piano and a "Dear god, why?" Tonight was no exception. What those two did to The Letter was not of the lord.

Did we really need to recap all the judges comments for every single contestant? We watched the show, show, and we don't have short term memory loss. And really, did Randy and Judge #4 even say anything that was remotely interesting? Really? In fact, all the judge banter tonight was weaksauce. (Although the Simon/Ryan was of rare vintage) Please less time repeating what these fools just said 24 hours ago. It wasn't that riveting the first time.

There were things to like this epsiode, as always. The return of the Pointy Pose Group Sing! Oh, how I've missed you! It reassures me, noodles, that the group sing lives on to murder songs in new and different, Up With People-y ways. Can't wait 'til it's joined by the Ford pimpmercial. Alexis made it through. And even though I call huge bullshit on how it went down, I got to keep my He-Man Oilman and I have every confidence that Anoop "missed by that much" Desai will breeze through the Wildcard Round and take his rightful place among the Top 12. Gokey got through, which I'd be much more pleased about if the show wasn't doing all it could to try to kill whatever affection his beautiful voice continues to stir in me. Fucking picture of the dead wife. Massive party foul, kittens. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. And Tati still rocking the P-Dawg jewelry and refusing to break until almost the very end. I haven't been a fan, but that kicked tremendous amounts of boot-ay especially after the show went out of it's way to egregiously dick her around from the jump. Having said that, when she gets put through to the Wildcard round, I wholeheartedly reserve the right to go back to hating her intensely.

And what else was there to like? Well, there was the exposure of Jackie Tohn as a massive tool. Nah, not that. What about the continued whiny bitchassness of the 16 year old moonface cow shirt? Even though she did kind of single handedly turn it out in that train wreck of a group sing and was the first and maybe only person to hug Tati of her own accord after she was eliminated, it's not that either. Stephen Fowler and his sweaty hands, which were clearly the result of not wanting to be outed as a total pot head? Nope. How about Anouk being completely adorable bantering with Seacrest? Well, that's just bittersweet now, isn't it? No, kiddies, I am forced to concede that we got about 58 minutes of crap and commercials (One and the same? Discuss) and about two minutes of actually suspenseful reality teevee drama (Sarver v. Desai). Can I get my hour back?

Oh well, onward and upward. Next week, the only folks I care about are Jasmine and Adam "Mr. Wicked" Lambert. Which of course means that it will be chock full of standout perfromances. Nick/Norman Mitchell Gentle and Dueling Pianos boy and tattoo sleeved Lady Day wannabe. Fasten your seatbelts, noodles, it's going to be a bumpy (Wednesday!) night.

American Idol S8 Semifinals Ep1 The Reason We Can’t Have Nice Things

Kittens, I know I said I wouldn’t talk about Judge #4, but seriously, she’s even worse in the live show environment than on tape delay, isn’t she? She inspired a new phrase today. Karababble. I was saying it in my head every time Judge #4 was spouting nonsense tonight. Obvi, I used it a lot. Yes, Kara Diodumbshit is like school on Christmas. No class. And here I took Ryan’s adorable brown vee-neck sweater and snazzy new hair to be a sign of good things to come. (Yes, Simon. We noticed!) And also the fact that Ryan obviously hates Judge #4, too. The View. Hee! You slay me, you wee, gay man. So we dealt with Karababble and everything from mostly inoffensive if bland to heinous performances. Three clear standouts raged against the insidious influence of the Karababble and by rights should be going through. But on one of them, I hope I’m wrong.

Top 3 Material

Danny Gokey/Hero – Simon made a valiant attempt at de-pimping, no kiddies? He really gave it the old college try. But everyone else? Out of control. The pimp slot? Doing a recap on the dead wife story? The constant cuts to hanger on supreme, Jamar? And he doesn’t even need it, y’all. He took the treacly mess that is Mimi’s Hero and sang the hell out of it. The fool can flat out blow. Just let him sing. He’s the truth. And if the show doesn’t ease back, they will find him Doolittled and out third. But for tonight, at least, he laid it down. I’ll be shocked if he doesn’t make Top 12.

Alexis Grace/I Ain’t Never Loved A Man - And the nasty Manic Panic hair is in response to the “Get dirty” comment from the first round audition show. See how Judge #4 ruins everything? But I was pleased for the most part with Alexis. Somewhere between Hollywood and . . . well, Hollywood, she learned no to shout all the time, which is a very good thing. It was a little The Commitments, but overall quite good. And it was here that I saw that Paula was rocking the Tati Star bracelet. I’m not even mad, Ma. Make that money. She’s a cutie with a voice that you don’t expect to come out of that package, as P-Dawg and Simon noted. Not even close to the EEEEeeee, though. Ms. Kelly Clarkson? Yeah, Simon kinda lost his mind there.

And now for something new and different . . .

Ricky Braddy/A Song for You – So, Paula was right, what? I mean, he’s kind of ugly as sin and as Simon noted, when it comes to star power, well, he’s a great gift to the chicken finger industry. That said, he didn’t have a terrible voice. I think he lacked the requisite soul to sing this song well (I mean, he didn’t even realize that Donny Hathaway pwns this song) and his version of it didn’t really resonate. But on a night of questionable performances, he showed a nice tone and an ability to stay on pitch, which had him coming out on top. But on the real, y’all, he’s got no pizzaz. And Judge #4 continued to show her ignorance here by insisting that “star quality” is not what the show is about right now. Seriously, noodles. Has she ever watched this show? Star quality is all that this show is about right now. Only three will get through out of 12 in each of the next three rounds. As Em says, “You only get one shot/do not miss your chance to blow.” In their two minutes, these kids have got to motherfuckin’ pop off that screen like Orville Redenbacher’s. If they don’t sizzle, they will be taking their broke broke home. If Ricky somehow makes Top 12, then he can do the slow burn and have the Phil Stacy growth arc. But he has to get there first. Judge #4 is a twit. Still, I’ll give it up to Paula’s honeydip. He sang well.

When Bad Songs Happen to Good People

Wherein we will examine the “No, baby song” choice and the “bitch song” choice. Kittens, we all know that there are many, many great songs that should nonetheless never ever be sung on this fake ass show. Tonight, half the contestants chose from the “No, baby song” catalogue. Many whom I like a lot. And then, we have the bitch song. Y’all, I really don’t have anything against men singing songs originally done by women (or vice versa) but there is a subset of songs I like to call the bitch song. It’s a song so indelibly steeped in a female POV, so unequivocally a “woman’s” song, that unless you are doing a completely knowing take on the song (which I think is beyond most AI contestants, if I’m being honest) they are not going to work for a man. Tonight, a couple of the men chose from the “bitch song” catalogue. Suffice it to say that between the “No, baby song” and the “bitch song”, carnage ensued.

Jackie Tohn/A Little Less Conversation – Noodles, this song has never been done well by anyone on this show. It should never be attempted unless one is forced into it on some hideous theme night. And it definitely shouldn’t have been done the way Jackie chose to do it. Y’all, what was this slowed down, sexed up, kinda cabaret version of this song? I was so confused. And did she just talk her way through the whole song? Talk and wiggle in her Grease era Olivia Newton John shiny leggings and strapless sweetheart top and super wide red leather belt and tennis shoes? What the fuck, Jackie Tohn? (Although, Paula capping on Randy’s Journey era wardrobe? P-Dawg was en fuego tonight!) I hated that all the way through and didn’t find anything entertaining. And I had been enjoying Jackie up til then. Felled by the “Baby, no song”.

Sidebar: The technical difficulties in tonight’s show were really a bit much. I think 19 E brought over the incompetent production team from last season’s SYTYCD. To which I can only say, Hell to the Naw! Loosen the purse strings, Fuller, and get your crew tight.

Brent Keith (Smith)/Hicktown – First off, it was way too late to try to drum up a sob story for this fool. And before he even launched into this, we’d all read the stories all over the net about how this fool went fairly far on Nashville Star. Truth be told, I don’t care. What I do care about was the complete “Baby, no song” he busted out. I’ve heard this song before. It’s a bona fide barn burner. Not my cup of tea, but the fool who sings it tears the house down. And BKS is by no means a “tear the house down, Rebel yell” country guy. He’s a Mr. Smooth country guy. He’s way too much of a pretty boy to do this hillbilly song justice. And Simon, as usual, brought the only relevant critique. That song was not a risk for him at all. It was exactly like the Colonel singing God Bless the U.S.A. last season, a naked attempt to send a coded message to a certain type of AI voter. And the message, “I kind of suck and don’t sing very well but vote for me or the terrorists win.” I hated this. Simon hated this. And I think his wife was about to agree with Simon before Seacrest cut her off, which would’ve ruled! But Seacrest is just too good at his job. Curse you, wee foxy one! Foiled again.

Casey Carlson/Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic – Alright, darlings. After Brooke’s debacle last year with Every Breath You Take, it ought to be an unwritten rule that you don’t do The Police on Idol, no? I mean, here’s the thing about The Police songs, they are awesome, but they have no range for the most part. And they rest a lot on funky, quirky little underbeats and elements of ska and reggae that don’t necessarily come out unless you are singing with a band not led by Ricky Minor. And Sting, say what you will about him, has a kinda cool, jazzy phrasing that he unleashes at every occasion but especially on more up tempo joints (And seriously, why did she sing it so slowly?). Overall, this just sucked tremendous amounts of ass. When Paula takes it to the beautiful place, you know it’s over. Oh well, I still didn’t have any memory of who this one even was, so no big loss, noodles.

Michael Sarver/I Don’t Wanna Be – So my lovely He-Man Oilman flamed out on the AI National Anthem. As soon as they started listing out who had attempted this song in the past, I winced. He-Man Oilman had nothing in common with any of them. Believe it or not Randy “The Dawg” Jackson had the relevant point here (though overall this was a sad return to useless form for Randy. He’d been so absent in the early rounds that I forgot how he really doesn’t add any value to the show). This song was so not him and didn’t show anything about who he might be as an artist. And of course, he also didn’t sing it well. He was flat, flat, flat and out of tune from the jump. Honestly, I was shocked that Randy didn’t break out pitchy, because if any performance were crying out for it, it was this one. And the judges tried to soft peddle this, but it was bad y’all. I’m thinking if America doesn’t put him through, he may make the wild card short list. And hopefully, he’ll pick a better song. All together now, “No, baby.”

Ann Marie Boskovic/Natural Woman – And the Dawg remained on fire here. Though a blind man could’ve seen this one coming. This song was all kinds of too big for her. I like Anne Marie, I really do. And I think she has a great voice. But it’s not a belter’s voice. And this is a song for a capital "B" Belter. J-Hud. Or, you know, Aretha. So, I think she’s toast, which is sad, because she has a lovely instrument with, what’s that? The right song. And even though I didn’t enjoy her performance, I adored her take down of Judge #4. It was beautiful. Even Paula couldn’t resist piling on. Maybe Paula will murder Judge #4 round about mid-season. We live in hope, don’t we, kiddies? Anyway, Anne Marie brought a twig to a knife fight, so she’s gone.

Anouk (Anoop) Desai/Angel of Mine – And now we get to the “bitch song” (and you can also put Ricky Braddy in this category). Look, I love Monica and I love this song, too. But why not just go ahead and sing Unbreak My heart? This is a “bitch song”. It doesn’t work for a man. From the sentiment to the timbre that one would hope to hear in the voice, it’s just a bad choice, even if you sing it well. And Anouk, well, he didn’t sing it all that well. He wasn’t terrible, but there were a couple of spots where he got really sharp and all nasally up in his nasal (in part because he seemed to be trying to sing it like Monica did – yet another reason for men to avoid singing the “bitch song”). I’m sad that Anouk didn’t turn it out. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the show that I haven’t been genuflecting after his performance. And for that reasons, Kittens, I do think he’ll get through without even needing to go to the wild card round. He’ll beat out his partner in “bitch song”, Ricky, even though Ricky technically sang better tonight. He’s just got the likeability factor (and cutie patootie parents). Still loving on Anouk.

Straight Up Sang Bad OR I Hate You

Stephen Fowler/Rock Wit U – Oh Fro Man, you really let me down. And I disagreed with the entire judges’ panel here, this was an inspired song choice. I think Anouk could’ve turned it out and really wish he’d sung it. Heck, I think Stephen could’ve given it a good go. The problem here was that he started out horribly out of tune. He was so far off the note, he couldn’t have found it with GPS. And he knew it, and everybody knew it and it seemed to completely rattle him and shake his confidence. He battled through, and by the middle of the song he was actually starting to get it somewhat back on track, and I applaud that. But darlings, he does seem to have a penchant for falling apart, no? And I don’t buy the whole “lost without the piano thing”. I mean, again, have these kids not watched the show before? They just started letting contestants play instruments last year and even then, not all the time. So I call huge bullshit on the excuse. He just messed up . . . and that’s a shame because I did really like him. Gotta cut him loose, though.

Stevie Wright – Y’all I don’t even remember what she sang. That’s how bad it was. Was there one note in tune during the whole performance? I really don’t think so. She never found the pitch. It was an abysmal performance. And that’s all I have to say about that. Go home. And take your cow shirt with you.

Tatiana del Toro/Saving All My Love for You – And y’all, at this point, I really just couldn’t. She got the penulti-pimp spot and by this time, it had just been too much. And the thing is, as the judges noted, she did have moments. The last note was lovely. And she acted decidedly less Bedlam bait tonight. But among the many, many things this girl needs to do, a big one is step away from the Whitney. Whitney’s range is tremendous and one of the things that makes her songs so tricky to sing is that she can go from the lowest low notes an alto can hit to the tippy top of the soprano’s register. In order to sing her songs well, you have to have tremendous range. And Tati sure as hell doesn’t have that. Consequently, the beginning of the song was way too low for her and she had to strain so much to try to hit those notes that she barely got her voice above a whisper. I kept wanting some crazy grandma in the audience to jump up with camcorder in hand and cry “Sing out, Tati.” And I adored the judges’ utter confusion at her Sybil-like personality transplant and their frantic attempts to shove her back into her drama queen box. Y’all, this chick is certifiable. And I actually thank god that she was halfway decent tonight, because she probably robbed the Vote for the Worst crowd of a female Sanjaya. The dress was pretty. That’s something, right?

12? Is that 12? Kittens, I’m so exhausted and we’re only in semifinals week one. I think it will be Gokey, Alexis and Anoop. Anoop may be overtaken by Ricky. It could also conceivably be Tatiana (via VFTW) or Michael Sarver (via judge pimping). I’d be very surprised with anyone else, but who knows what you mischief makers will do. See you tomorrow in the kiss and cry.

American Idol S8 Ep 11 Forward, March

I’m gonna be kind of a drill sergeant with this recap, kittens, so I hope you like it rough. We have two hours of mess and madness to get through and that’s before we even get to the booting of Poor Me Pacitti. I know the poop is that she’s BFF with some 19 E executives, but really, bitch should’ve been booted for forgetting her lyrics all the damn time anyway.

But let’s start by hating on Judge #4 because there’s little I love more than that. It’s The Chair. I’m aware that she doesn’t seem to know or care much about this show that she's invaded, but this is kind of a big honkin’ deal for the kiddies. See how Paula pulled her Homecoming ’85 dress out of mothballs and styled her hair all pretty for the occasion? She even wore her Star ’80 ring (which she will later stupidly give to Tati D when you know Adam Lambert would’ve killed for that shit and used it in his killer microphone hairbrush home rendition of Rush Rush). But Judge #4, did she just pull out some old dirty jeans and a tank top from The Gap? Fall back, Kara DioNobodywantsyouhere. I’m convinced that 99.9% of the foolywangery that gets done in assembling this Top 36 can be directly attributed to her.

Anouk Desai – Noodles, we started off so well didn’t we? The show reminded us that since the day he came on the scene, Anouk has set the AI world on fire. And the judges couldn’t even really front on him because dead people knew that he was going through. Thin those eyebrows, lose the scarf (Michael Johns flashbacks. God, the horror, the horror!) and this one should be golden through at least Top 9 or 10. Sadly, later on we learned that he’s wound up in the Group of Death, but just at the beginning I was in seventh heaven.

Von Smith – Was next and he looked hella grimy blaming his parents for his crappy song choices and propensity to scream at us all. the. time. Y’all, I think this kid has skills, so it’s extra double sad that he always goes to eleven. I could kinda maybe root for him if he’d just promise to take it down a notch or twenty. But I don’t think he’s capable. And therefore, I don’t hold out much hope for him to make it out of the Top 36 Thunderdome. But you know, at this point in our show I still had very few complaints. Oh, except about the judges’ mansion ‘cause that hole was just tacky. It looked like a brothel.

Sing off! Kiddies, this concept would’ve worked so much better if it had actually been a sing off, no? Bring the two kids in and have them throw down, battle style. Maybe even sing the same song at the same time and see who comes out on top. And have the judges deliver the verdict right there, BAM! Blood on the dance floor style. But instead, we got this wan “innovation” that just made me even madder that we gave up the Elevator of Doom for that mess. And who’s up first? Adorable geek, Alex Wagner Trugman and some kid that I didn’t even have memory of until they showed that tape of him making horror films in his backyard with his Super 8. Gee, I wonder who will get through?

As soon as he opened his mouth, I saw why I had blocked Cody Sheldon out. It was AWT for the win all day long and twice on Sundays. Because he can actually sing, see? And displayed the ability to pick a decent song, right? Unlike whatever it was that Cody thought he might be doing. And of course there was Ryan at the end taking an awkward and uncomfortable situation and dragging it out for as long as possible for our benefit. Love you, Ry. Don’t ever change!

Adam Lambert – Is awesomely tragic. Did y’all peep his neckwear? Obviously inspired by his own personal idol, Ms. Paula Abdul, and the shrapnel she was rocking Tuesday night. And was that a sequined belt he had on? Oh, noodles, he might be my secret favorite. Even though his last Hollywood song was awful by any objective measure of quality, the judges loooove him. They can smell the Fivehead money coming off this fool in waves. He’s still on my list of comers.

Taylor Vaifanua – Still freakishly tall and adorably awesome. And now with added being 17, so that means I don’t have to dislike her quite as intensely as I might have done had she been 16. And process point, whenever Randy is the first to speak, the contestant is going through. Have you noticed that? But back to Taylor, giantess in the house!

Jasmine Murray – Not much to say about this one. Was there ever any doubt? She’s still cuter than a basket of puppies and kittens. Dollar bills, y’all.

And now came the first “Who with the what now?” portion of our show. Was Tuesday the first time that we ever saw Arianna, Casey and Mishavona? Have we heard so much as a note from any of them? I mean, I know that I have a selective memory, but damn. And Stevie and Meghan? Have we seen them sing at all since their very first auditions? No? Alrighty then. I know Meghan is something of a fan fave, but I’m still hating all over her and her tattoo sleeve. I’m predicting swift exits for the lot of them.

Joanna Pacitti – I had a lot to say about her, but she’s gone now trailing her air of quiet desperation behind her, so what’s the point?

More “don’t know you at all” contestants. Goodie. And what’s the lesson from this brief shot at saying goodbye to TK, Chris and Reggie? Nothing good can ever come of O-Town songs. The more you know.

Kendall Beard – I hated her on sight, thus she was assured to get through. She’ll either be gone in three weeks or she’ll become the Kristy Lee nightmare that hangs on this season like a barnacle through Week 7 or 8. Which one will it be, kittens? Only time will tell.

Sing off #2 with extra added don’t care. Jen Korbee was nice but nothing special. Kristen is a train wreck with a lot of vocal tics in her bag of tricks. Guess which one’s going through? It really was like the show wasn’t even trying. Best part was Paula busting on somebody’s attire. When you point a QVC clad finger, four HSN digits are pointing right back at you. Kristen and her teal boots will never get a whiff of Top 12, so what was the point? Exactly.

And for all the Simon haters, please step off. He’s not being a sexist pig. He’s being a record executive. Ugly girls don’t sell pop albums. Look it up.

Alexis Grace – I hated the new hair and the continued baby pimping. But I love her. She can sing. And her baby is preternaturally cute. I don’t know how far she can go, especially now that she’s landed in group one, but after a slew of questionable calls, this ticket to the Top 36 was like a breath of fresh air.

White Stevie Wonder – I refuse to learn his real name unless he at least stops staring at me with his creepy dead eyes. Noodles, last I checked, this was not the Special Olympics. This fool can’t sing. How anyone can deny this is beyond me. Sympathy votes may actually land this idiot on the show, where I can only hope that he will take a tragic fall into the swaybot pit, ending the lives of both himself and several screaming pre-teens.

Lil Rounds – The judges looove her and I do, too, although I’m worried. She needs to learn not to shout her way through ever song tout suite. And the show needs to stop pimping her unless they are trying to engender some major backlash. I also couldn’t help noticing that there’s nothing l’il about Ms. Rounds’ rack. Sturdy support garments are your friends, Lil. I’m just saying.

And then it was more people that we didn’t know at all. Just what we wanted! Felicia Barton, Ashley Hollister, Devon Baldwin, bye bye. Except not, because Felicia is coming back now only to be unceremoniously tossed in another week or two. Really, the show could’ve just moved on with 35. Does anyone believe this girl has a snowball’s chance in hell of making the Top 12? Anyone? Bueller?

It took until sing off #3 to get to one that I actually cared about, darlings. Frankie Jordan and her sass and adorable husband and baby vs. Jesse of the glorious Some Kind of Wonderful medley. And both of them picked perhaps the worst songs they possibly could’ve chosen to sing for their lives. (And I just keyed in to the fact that Fuller was trying to ape the SYTYCD dance for your life thing here, which is wrong on a whole nother level) I don’t even know the song that Frankie chose, but it was way too low for her register and she was flat throughout. Bad, bad choice. And then Jesse went and sang Terence Trent D’Arby. What? Y’all, I love that song. It’s a great old school classic. But it’s so twisty ways and not designed to show off your singing ability in a competition like AI. I can only scratch my head and guess that maybe they both secretly really wanted to go home. Well, Jesse’s in, but Simon’s right as usual. She has zero shot to win this show.

More neverweres. Derek Larvers, ciaocito, baby. Shera, props to your mom for naming you after a He-man character, but your gone, too.

Alison Iraheta – I’ve loved this little redhead (Work with me here, I’m being generous on the Manic Panic) since the snippet we saw of her earliest audition. And I know that she is only 16 and this show will chew her up and spit her out and she’ll be an obnoxious brat or a wet dishrag by like minute two, but she's such a cute little chola and she can blow. I’m glad she made it.

This next part of the show made me happy. I was so sick of Danny’s hanger on and they brought back the dead wife and the over the top drama of who will make it? And still, I have mad love for Danny Gokey, so that let’s me know right there that this kid has that magic thing. Because if he can overcome the copious amounts of bullshit the show is shoveling on him, than he can overcome anything.

Danny Gokey – So anyway, he was there. He was awesome. You’ll see him in the Top 12. Sorry, Haters.

Jamar Rogers – Restores my faith in god (and the judges). I’m so proud of them for not putting this fool through on sympathy points. Go back and listen to him defile California Dreamin’. Try to make it through his creaky take on Hey There, Delilah without wanting to throw up a little in your mouth. Tell me that his aggressively ugly face piercings don’t make you want to administer a serious beat down. Explain why he’s not a poor man’s Pharrel. I am so glad to see the back of him, I don’t know what to do.

And here’s where I was mad that they lumped the awesomeness that is Ju’not Joyner in with a ton of folks that I either don’t know (Ricky Braddy), don’t care about (Brent Keith Smith – and I will continue to use the Smith until he goes home), or actively dislike (Matt Giraud). Realistically, I think Matt or Brent have the best shot of actually making the show, and since I’ve never heard a note issue from Ricky Braddy’s mouth yet (Thanks, show!) I can’t call it. But for my money, Ju’not is hands down the class of this field and a dark horse to take the Chikeze Pumpkin Pimp memorial slot.

Stephen Fowler – Got through by the hair on his chinny chin chin. And Now he’s in the Group of Death. I do enjoy the Fro Man, but if it comes down to him over Danny and Anoop? I’ma have to let him go. Hopefully he’ll impress enough to take one of the wild card slots.

Nick Mitchell – I need to take a moment here, kittens, because the judges are doing all that they can to make this show into a joke. This kid is so pathetic. A big ball of need and overcompensation. It’s not fun to watch him anymore. It’s just sad and unseemly. He and Tatiana and Nathaniel are a Vote for the Worst wet dream, and Cecile Frout-Coutaz and the rest of the producers need to get their heads out of their asses and realize that we enjoy William Hung precisely because we are in on the joke and know that he could never really make it onto the show. Sanjaya or JPL or Chicken Little were all, at one point, actually kinda good and seemed like they could be viable contenders. That they all imploded once on the show (Sanjaya most spectacularly of all) gave their downward spiral a kind of pathos. But really, where else is there to go with Nick Mitchell? We’re starting at rock bottom. Sigh. This is the kind of shit that makes me worry about the future health of this show.

Jackie Tohn – I kind of love Jackie Tohn. She has a great voice. It’s unusual and stands out from all the pop princesses and belters. And she seems to be super fun. But if she keeps wearing spaghetti strap jumpsuits, we will have to break up. I mean, we were all the way back to the leotard incident, weren’t we? I think she has a shot to make the show, but the fashion is going to be an issue.

Tatiana del Toro – I’m exhausted. She brings the drama, which is apparently what they want this season. Simon got in a good burn on Paula’s tacky jewelry line. And the look on Nathaniel Marshall’s face when she came through screaming about making the show made me laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Whatever. I fully expect her not to survive the group of death. What the judges chose to do with their wild card is a different story.

Sing off #4 between capital “D” drama Nathaniel Marshall and little “d” drama Jackie Midkiff (another contestant from Whoville). Another sing off where it was clear from the jump who would be making it through. For all the attempted drama, the sing offs were boring time sucks. And someone needs to call Child Protective Services on Nathaniel’s grandma because making him believe that his only shot to make something out of his life hangs on making it onto this fake reality show has got to be some form of child abuse, no? He’s foul. The decision is foul. Take everything I said about Nick/Norman and Tati D and lather, rinse, repeat. These three hurt my heart.

And for the record, Seacrest, this show does not completely change the course of someone’s life. Just ask Nikki McKibbin. Or Lisa Tucker. Or Amy Adams. Or Chris Sligh. Or . . . well, you get the point.

Jeanine Vailes – Is an exceedingly beautiful girl who I would’ve loved to see even a minute of rather than the endless treacle of Danny and the dead wife or the manufactured drama of the Three Faces of Tatiana. Oh well, I’ll get to see her once on her group night, where she’ll almost inevitably be voted out in favor of someone who got more than a teacup’s worth of screen time during the 20 years of audition rounds.

Kai Kalama – Still hating on him. He can’t sing. He seems to have a fairly low key and boring personality. And he’s really not all that cute, no better than the light skinned, mixed boy in your 10th grade algebra class that you crushed on a little and maybe wrote a note to that one time when you were really bored. In other words, he’s toast.

Anne Marie Boskovic – Was a pleasant surprise to get through. She’ll likely be yet another victim of the group of death, but I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for her. Lovely voice, lovely girl. Not nearly enough crazy for this season.

And before we got to the final mano a mano, we got Kris Allen, another heretofore unknown to me contestant so who cares? And I might have hallucinated or they might at some point in the evening have let the Loud PR Boy through as well. Honestly, kiddies, I was barely hanging on by this point.

Serial Killer vs. He-Man Oilman – Darlings, I swear prior to last night I thought He-Man Oilman’s name was Jeremy. And now, just when we are coming so close to losing him to the vagaries of the producers' grouping strategies, I find out that it is actually Michael. My bad. Much like the rooms on Tuesday, the suspense was kind of ruined by the fact that we can count. Obviously, both Michael Sarver and Matt Brietzke were going to go through since we had only seen 34 tickets to the top at this point. As usual, Michael was actually good and Matt . . . seemed like a very nice guy. The show obviously favors the Serial Killer having dumped Michael into the G.o.D. but I have hopes that my He-Man Oilman will fight his way through to the Top 12 as he’s a much more appealing alternative to fill the designated “male country artist” slot than either Brietzke or Brent Keith (Smith).

Welcome to your season, kittens! The first group is of Sophie’s Choice-ian composition. We’ve got Casey Carlson, Jackie Tohn, Anne Marie Boskovich, Alexis Grace, Stevie Wright, and Tatiana Del Toro duking it out for the ladies, and Anouk (Anoop) Desai, Stephen Fowler, Rickie Braddy, Brent Keith (Smith), Michael Sarver, and Danny Gokey holding it down for the gentleman. Casey and Stevie are the only two I’d classify as clearly throw aways from this group. Everyone else has a decent to outside shot to make it through. (Yes, even Tati) Should be a fun week.

American Idol S8 Ep10 Redemption Can Be Found in Hell Itself

Kittens, I’m still on sensory overload. There was so much happening in last night’s penultimate Hollywood Week episode. It’s like Simon Fuller realized that he has been dishing up steaming hot piles of crap for the past five weeks and tossed everything but the kitchen sink into that episode in an attempt to atone for his sins. And it worked for me. I mean, yes, there was too much of the too much contestants. Tatiana. Nick/Norman Mithcell/Gentle. Danny Golke’s less talented hanger-on. Loud Puerto Rico boy. But even a moment of them would’ve been too much. And there was way too much of the judges standing around looking at photos and not doing anything interesting. But there was also singing. Lots of it. From familiar faces and from awesome people we had never seen before! (Why hello, Jun’ot Joyner and your charming rendition of that Plain White Tees song and your actually adorable son)

And I think it’s time for a fashion note. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, not really, but let’s do it anyway. Y’all, I really try to ignore judge #4, but she is so egregious. Kara DioWetSealwannabe, what the fuck were you wearing? Why was she rocking trends that are a) two seasons behind the times and b) 15-20 years too young for her? And still, she was outdone by Paula, the Chuck Norris of crazy, and her scrap metal necklace and jumpsuit combo. Please cede the floor, judge #4. Your presence is neither needed nor wanted.

Much like our show last night, this post is taking a long time to get to the heart of the matter, no? I mean, did we really need eleven hundred minutes of recap to kick things off? Note to show: we have been watching. We already know what happened. And if we weren’t watching, well that was probably because we didn’t want to be bothered with early round audition footage, hmmm? So why do you insist on wasting our time? Just let Seacrest get it poppin’ and everything will be OK.

Adam Lambert – They didn’t need to give Mr. Wicked the #1 spot. I already half way adore him. And sadly, he didn’t sing all that well last night. He was all nasally up in his nasal. And Believe? As a ballad? Ok, yeah no. Damn Daughtry and Fivehead. Look at what they have wrought. Still like this one, though, and think that he’s a comer.

Time for a random musing #1. Damn, Matt Brietzke looks like a serial killer. He can’t get on the show y’all. Sometimes it runs late and I’ll get nightmares if his mug is the last thing I see before bedtime.

Danny Golke Hanger-On Par Excellenc, Jamar – I hate him and he sounded like ass again last night. So affected on a song already drowning in affectation and for the love of all that is holy, what is up with the cheek piercing? It’s soooo distracting. I really loathe him, noodles. Can we send him home already?

Danny Golke – Being totally awesome some more. It’s so sad that he apparently comes in a two-pack with his buddy, because heck if he didn’t sound just lovely last night. I love I Hope You Dance (which apparently puts me in the same boat as half of the auditioners last night) and I’m glad that he did a more R&B version of it. Maybe a tad bit overdone on the riffs, but I could listen to his voice all day AND he made Paula get up and do the rodeo dance, so he’s money. And not even a mention of the dead wife. Well played, show.

Random musing, part deux. Kiddies, why does Randy look so confused this season? Perhaps he thinks he’s showing up for a taping of America’s Best Dance Crew and then he spends the rest of the episode wondering where L’il Mama is and whether or not JC will lend him one of his old t-shirts from his N’Sync tour dates. Season 8 Randy makes the baby Jesus cry.

Anouk Desai – First off, I keep seeing his name all over other parts of the interwebs as Anoop, which is fine because it reminds me of Snoop and I think a Snoop Dogg joint with Anoop singing the hook would be killer. But since I started him out as Anouk, Anouk he shall remain. Second, he tore it down with My Prerogative. That is one funky, funky Indian boy. Third, I would’ve loved to hear more than the ten notes of it that we got. But no. I guess we just had to hear the loud PR boy so I could hate him. Still. Some more. And we really needed to be subjected to White Stevie Wonder with his breathy, thin voice and his completely atonal and off pitch song and his freak me right the hell on out non-seeing eyes. Ewww. And Kendall who? Mishavona what? Why are we seeing these folks just now? I don’t know them and don’t care. Bring me the nerdy hot Indian boy who can blow the doors off. But no, because then we needed to watch Tatiana continue to sing poorly, embarrass herself, and be delusional and crazy some more all the while not amounting to even a tenth of a poor man’s Mikaela Gordon. Please go home. If you can’t tell, this was the part of the show custom designed to irk the shit out of me. We had to see Nathaniel and his fake drama and his little guitar, but can only get a minute of Jasmine and her apocalyptic cuteness? Baloney.

One thing I will give last night’s show. They did give at least a brief flash of most of the “stories” from the earlier rounds. Whether it was watching Joanna Pacitti and Fro Man forget their words (and you can guess who got a “Hell yeah, you aren't that good anyway!” and who got an “Awww, baby. That's alright.” from me for that) or hearing Anne Marie Boskovic and Jackie Tohn do what appeared to be lovely takes on I Hope You Dance, there was some actual follow up going on. Heck, we even got He-Man Oilman Jeremy Sarver still sounding lovely and making me thoroughly enjoy him and his authentically cute baby. What? They also actually let us see and hear evidence for why some of the early round airtime hogs were (or should have been) let go. India, it turns out really couldn’t sing, a fact which we have known all along, I might add. She should go find MC Search. I’m sure VH1 will do another Miss Rap Supreme. Leneshe, as much as I adored her after her first audition, stunk up the joint last night. Her voice sounded horrible and white capri leggings are never a good idea. And the curly weave wasn’t working for her at all. If I put her ouster up against the fact that Tatiana was allowed to continue her existence in this competition (and maybe even on this earth) than, no, I do not understand it. But just on her own merits, the judges made the right call. We saw Nick/Norman Mitchell/Gentle shriek horrendously and sap all of our energy and yet somehow escape getting sent home at last and Kai Kalama continue to be a bad singer and miraculously stick around. Maybe it’s the hair? Could we do a Samson thing on him, kittens? Because his voice is not aesthetically pleasing.

And then, just like that, it was time for the rooms. And this is where AI’s Hollywood week formula started looking a tad threadbare. The seams are starting to show, show. Who didn’t figure out instantly which rooms would go through and which ones wouldn’t? (Although the terror faces on Room 4 when Tatiana walked in and Matt Brietzke’s “So, it’s a no then?” were priceless) I mean, the cut room was full of nobodies plus India, Leneshe, and Michael Castro’s truly unfortunate new coif. Obvi, they were toast. Room 1 had Danny, Lil, Anouk, Jamar and Jackie, and if the others in that room couldn’t figure out that they were safe from the jump, then they are not smart enough to keep breathing let alone to stay on American Idol. As for the other two rooms that got through, well, we heard the judges say that they put 44 on to the final leg of Hollywood week and we can count. Both rooms had to get through. Sigh. Maybe we can try something new and different next year, yes?

So that’s the whole kit and caboodle, noodles. Tonight we’ve got two hours of the chair at the judges’ mansion. And kittens, if the judges actually have to live there during the season and we get footage of that as part of our “behind the scenes” package, then I will take back every bad thing that I’ve ever said about this show and worship it even more than I already do. So, you could say I’m hyped. I’m even willing to get over the fact that apparently there’s no elevator of doom anymore. We’re so close to putting this show into your hands, America. Can’t you almost taste it?

To close, I must give props to that magnificent bastard Simon Cowell. Whether he was practically falling asleep and/or rolling his eyes in contempt at some of the less credible kids, leaving Paula hanging on her high five, or not being assed enough to hang around and fuck with the kids’ heads in the 4 rooms, he was in full Cat Daddy splendor last night. I love you, Cowell. Make ‘em bleed tonight.

American Idol S8 Extra On the Origin of Species

Kittens, as we head out of a hella crazy Grammy weekend (and seriously, Chris Brown, WTF?) I am reminded of how very much I like this little show called American Idol because, dammit, it delivers! I’ll admit, I’ve been hard on the audition rounds. They’ve driven me to malign contestants’ hygiene, berate white people as a class, talk about folks’ kids, and denigrate dead spouses and parents with impunity. All stuff that I loooove to do, y’all, don’t get me wrong. But I’m realizing that all my hating might give the impression that I don’t think this show produces greatness. But this past weekend made me proud to be an Idol lover since S1. The old school Idols were out in force showing these new whippersnappers how it should be done. And really, this has been a great fall/winter season for our AI-lettes. So, as we head into the final dose of Hollywood Week when our Top 36 for this year will be revealed, let’s pause and acknowledge the greatness of Idol. Behold what your voting power and tiny, sparkly Seacrest dust hath wrought.

Let’s start at the very beginning, noodles. Ms. Kelly Clarkson is back with a vengeance! Not that I ever thought she was gone but there were doubts, rumors, reports of her demise even during her fight against the undead husk of Clive Davis. And OK, so maybe she’s let the dark lord stuff her back into her box a little bit with this new single, but hello! From #97 to #1 in the wink of an eye, bitches. And she looks fabulous to boot, though some are trying to give her the Jessica Simpson treatment.

(And sidebar: Where I come down on that, kittens, since your dying to know is that fool got fat. Yup, I said it. Now, does she look bad? Not really. Well, I mean, yes, she looks bad but that’s just because she’s tacky, not because she’s packed on the pounds. But to deny that she is significantly heavier than she once was is to lead Miss Jess down the path to where she’s having nervous breakdowns in front of fans before Rascal Flatts concerts. You’re fat now, Jess. If Tony Romo doesn’t like that, fuck him. He hasn’t won anything in Dallas in . . . well, ever, and country music is a lot more forgiving than pop)

Anyway, in happier and decidedly less fat news, anytime I feel down about Idol, anytime I hear scoffing by haters and non-believers. I think of the original EEEEEEEEeeeeee, Ms. Kelly Clarkson, and I know that there is a god and the he/she/it frikkin’ loves American Idol.

Some people argue that ‘Tasia is a second tier Idol winner. Then again, some people are idiots. I submit to you, ‘Tasia tearing it down at the UNCF celebration for Patty Labelle. She destroyed Lady Marmalade to the point where there is no need for anyone to perform this song again in any venue at any time anywhere because they will never, never, never do it better than this version right here. Say what you want about ‘Tasia and her repossessed home and her never quite reaching the top of the pops (or heck even the top of the R&Bs). Homegirl can blow the doors off.

Definitely not second tier, but never a particular favorite of mine, is Carrie Underwood. Sure, I liked Jesus Take the Wheel and rock it on my ipod with great frequency, but I was a Bo lover in S4 and I just never warmed up to Carrie. I’ve also been disturbed by her transformation from thin but healthy looking woman to bobblehead doll. And I also didn’t love Last Name the first time I heard on AI last year. I thought it was a little bit too much like Before He Cheats, no? Kinda rocker vibe, kinda country, dirtying up that perfect small town country girl image. But on Grammy night? Y’all, I loved me some Carrie Underwood! This vocal was not pristine, but it sure was fun. She really let loose and just went for it. And she looked amazing – skinny, but amazing. By far the most interested I’ve ever been in one of her performances (and that despite the fact that she killed Praying for Time on Idol Gives Back and was one of the few good things about last year’s IGB, which, thankfully, is going the way of the Dodo this year because it sucks and puts a hurting on the poor AI-lettes when they are getting down to the wire and already strung out). So good on ya, Carrie. She is doing the Idol brand proud.

Do we even need to talk about J-Hud turning it out at every opportunity? Oscar winner, Grammy winner. And, kiddies, the way that she has struggled through the adversity she’s faced this past year has been tremendous. Enough that I won’t even tell y’all how I really feel about her pledging her life to Punk from I Love New York. And who didn’t shed a tear last night during her big performance on the Grammy stage? (What? I’m not made of stone) But for my money, J-Hud at the Super Bowl is the defining moment of her come back to date. And yes, I know that it’s been reported that she lip synched on that day, but you know what? It was cold as a witch’s tit on that day and we all know that J-Hud can turn it out, so I am so much with the not caring. That anthem is right up there with Whitney. (And can we have a moment, kiddies, to yet again mourn the fact that Whitney, as tremendous as she looked in that gown, seemed to be drunk and/or drugged out her damn mind at the Grammy’s? Crack is whack, Whit. Crack is whack)

Another one who’s not, nor will she ever be, a personal favorite of mine is Jordin Sparks. In a year that contained Mindy doo (and we’ll get to that one in a minute) this child should never have even had a whiff of the AI crown. That said, Jordin was nominated for a Grammy last night for No Air, a song which takes on a whole new meaning given Chris Brown’s current predicament. And yes, she looked a hot mess last night, but I give it up to the young ‘un. Many artists will never get that coveted spot as a Grammy nominee and she has somehow managed to resist the bobbleheading that Carrie got. And I have hope that like a fine wine or Ricky Schroeder, she’ll get better with age.

Mindy Doo! Oh, Mindy Doo! She shut it down on Idolatry with Michael Slezak – another blogger you should definitely be peeping on the regular. And her new album will go right into my Amazon wish list queue the minute it drops. She is made of awesome and looking fiercer than ever. I fully expect her to take her rightful place in the pantheon of “I’m a winner, baby!” past Idol also-rans.

I guess I should also mention D’archie’s single, Crush , which I didn’t care for, but it got a decent amount of airplay and pretty steady rotation on VH1 this year, so yay for that. I do love me some D’archie, but he’s another one that needs some years of hard living on him to make him more interesting. And Fivehead has been everywhere, whether it’s landing his crap ass AI single on my favorite show, SYTYCD, and in the Olympics and on Oprah’s salute to Olympians special and every damn place else or dating and dumping Kimberly Caldwell (the only time Fivehead will ever get an “Amen” from me – although she did look spectacular at the Grammy’s last night).

And BTW, noodles, what was Kim Caldwell doing at the Grammy’s last night? And don’t even get me started on Guarini. Why will he not just go away? But as usual, when I think of Idol, I’m most thankful for the gift that is Paula Abdul. I mean, kittens, does it get any better than this? That’s how the motherfuckin’ crazy is done. She looks like an alien warrior princess going to her high school prom in 1964 . . . on crack. And I love every minute of it!

See? AI is controlling the house. Be proud of our little show, kittens. Let’s mount up and unleash another deserving winner (along with a whole truck load of crazy who will take up waaaayyy more than their 15 minutes of fame) on an unsuspecting populace.

American Idol S8 Ep 9 Cry and Cut

Darlings, were truer words ever spoken by a less talented reality TV contestant than the ones above? And last night’s AI proved yet again that while the tears may flow, the damn show must go on. Allow yourself the luxury of a breakdown and you risk winding up like our now not so dearly departed Red Weave, Bikini Girl, or Rose “Filthy Feet” Flack. So long, girls. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.

In honor of awards season, kittens, I’m going to give out my own bests for this Hollywood week group sing episode. Overall, I’ll give last night Best Coulda Woulda Shoulda award. It had the makings of greatness. Would Filthy Feet really be able to turn her group of Divas against Bikini Girl in a festival of carnage and eyebrow wax? Would the combined crazy of Red Weave, Our Nathaniel of the Holy Piercings, and some overbearing blond chick that we don’t know be so combustible that the entire hotel would collapse under the weight of all that ego, drama, and concealer? Would Randy crush Kara Diodammittohellshe’sstillhere under a jeans clad buttock, thus reclaiming his rightful slice of the air time? But for the most part, it came to naught, and we were left to rejoice in the fact that at least some of the more annoying contenders got kneecapped. Let’s jump in, shall we?

Best Snippet of Audition Footage That Could Have Gone On Forever – Did y’all love the montage of He-Man Oilman (Jeremy Sarver)/Mr. Wicked (Adam Lambert)/Crazy ugly bartender dude (Matt Breitzke)/Some awesome girl I’ve never seen before (Jesse?)/and random others being awesome as much as I did? I’m not even mad at any of them. Some kind of wonderful, indeed. Did we really need thirty minutes of stupid people staying up way past their bedtimes and then acting like cranky toddlers when we could have had more of this amazing singing, noodles? I daresay we did not. If this is what the producers meant by promising us more backstory this season, then I will politely say, “No thank you.” I think Mr. Wicked has some serious legs in this competition, y’all. He already looked slightly better than his initial audition. And with a little Pro-Active and that golden voice, kid could go far.

Best Obviously Good Group that Turned Out to Be . . . Good – Danny and friends for the motherfucking win! Queen a cappella. Take that, bitches. And Taylor was there, being tall and Samoan and incredible. And Jamar showed that he actually can sing a little bit, all prior evidence to the contrary. They ripped it, no doubt. I think all three have a shot at making Top 36.

Best Obviously Good Group that Turned Out to Be . . . Shitty – Emily Hughes and friends. You could see the judges’ hearts break and their wallets shrink three sizes when this girl turned out to be exactly the no-talent poser that she appeared to be all along. Even if she hadn’t biffed the lyrics all to hell, her voice still would’ve sounded like crap. I don’t even know what to make of Nick/Norman Mitchell/Gentle and that crazy loud kid from the Puerto Rico auditions (which don’t even exist in my universe) making it through. This group was just on the BS express from the jump. They aren’t singing anymore. They’re doing choreography!

Best Efficient Dispatch of Nice Contestants Who Were Never Going to Be Factors Anyway – Bye bye, Toothy Osmond. School's out, Lame Class President. Deanna, I never really liked you anyway. I did appreciate the speed with which the show dismissed some neverwas folks last night. Even some that were my favorites from earlier rounds – like that gorgeous, bald, dancing naked girl? I loved her, but seriously, she was never gonna win Idol. Kittens, I’m just as happy to let her go now without having heard her sing a single note since her first audition. I like ruthless Idol. Now if the producers could only bring that editing eye to the endless drama factory that is Tatiana AKA Prom Dress Girl, we’d really get somewhere. Which brings us to . . .

Best Example of an Annoying Contestant That Is Never Going to Provide Entertainment Value – The show may be pushing Tatiana, and maybe somebody somewhere finds her enchanting. But y’all know doggone good and well that no one will pick up a finger to vote her annoying ass through the Top 36 round. She grates. Look up grating in the dictionary, and there she is shucking and jiving. And she’s not even Mikaela Gordon annoying. She’s not smart enough for that. Nope, she’s straight up entitled and insufferably annoying. Careful, Tati. Dick Cheney is available and discrete and knows many, many ways to make fools disappear and I am not above making deals with the devil to get what I want.

Best Kill Two Birds With One Stone Booting – Thank all that’s good and pure Filthy Feet and Bikini Girl are gone. The fact that only Jasmine made it through from this brokedwon tragedy proves that there is still a spark of good left in this show. And I’m really sorry that the lovely girl in the yellow dress went down with this sinking ship, but she really wasn’t all that great, was she? Jasmine, however, continues to be money in the bank.

Best Shut Up and Sing Contestant – Pssst , India. Lemme holler at you for a sec. This is a singing competition. I’m glad that you can rap and all. That’s real cute. But, well, remember what I said? About Miss Rap Supreme? Sing something, dammit! Darlings, let's be serious. She got through because her group smoked it. I don’t know any of the other folks in that group (and really, Sexshul Chocolate has already laid claim to the best use of chocolate in a name for this season, so that attempt was neither needed nor warranted) but they laid it down. It was like Blake Lewis-ian, How Deep Is Your Love all up in there and I enjoyed it. But on the real, kiddies, India has to sing. Really. No, really.

Best Wasted Potential – Team Compromise. Take a bow, kids. You had all the makings of a Three Mile Island style meltdown, one that would stand for the ages and even rival the greats of the past – Antonella, the Brittenums. But instead, it was all sound and fury, signifying nothing. And Nathaniel, as the brilliant and sorely missed Miss Ali used to say, save your prayers because “God is in the tub.” (And if you don’t know ‘bout Miss Ali, hie thee over to TWOP and read any of her The Amazing Race recaps – this one’s a classic: http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/show/the_amazing_race_1/its_okay_run_them_over.php. Get schooled in how recapping is really done)

So, c’est tout, non? We didn’t see nearly enough of what I wanted. No Lil Rounds. No Anouk. Very little Alex. Maybe a second of Leneshe. But, I await next week with great anticipation because my very own Indian hottie is going to be singing My Prerogative. What, what? I think I love him a really lot.

American Idol S8 Ep 8 Where You’re Terrific If You’re Even Good

Hollywood, bitches! To quote that great soothsayer, Project Runway’s forgotten contestant Raimundo, “Drama has to happen.” Let’s get it on.

Hmm? What’s that you say? What happened to episode seven? I’m sorry, was there something before Hollywood week? I must’ve missed it. There was no dude in a rat suit and a cardboard ipod contraption. The word “guypod” has never been uttered. Nope. No tacky Luis Mi wannabes. No questionably curly haired “singers” who we all know will get cut. No Norman Gentle. Nooooooo!!!! Dear lord, why? It did not happen. Are we clear?

Good. Then let’s get it on.

Kittens, let’s start with a truth for our home viewers. The Kodak Theater is a shitty piece of stucco and famewhore stench that’s located in the middle of the world’s tackiest mall. You know the type with a hipster bowling alley? With all the neon lights and the early 90’s rocker music? And Hollywood itself is fake and as nasty as Rose Flack’s feet. Full of just the type of posers who kill themselves to get on this show. Please ignore Ryan and the shots of frolicking and fun. Unless you want to see fifteenth rate Marilyn Monroe impersonators and the sad trappings of what was once Graumann’s (now Mann’s) Chinese Theater, then just say no.

And yet, I’m so excited for Hollywood Week! Oh, show, how do you do what you do? I’ll admit that this first episode hasn’t given us anything approaching the Brittenum Twin magic or Brokenote Cowboy, but still. I love it so. I even love the new twist – Idol Boot camp. For some of these kids, makeovers can’t come soon enough. And who doesn’t love Barry Manilow? Idol came with the big name mentor during Hollywood Week, what? And he tossed out the first “Make it your own” of the season. Someone’s been doing his homework. And darlings, how cute was Ryan tonight in his blue shirt? So cute! And the hair gel was on point. The show is always better when Seacrest is at his metrosexual best.

As usual, we didn’t see nearly enough of the good to great folks, but there were enough comers to make it worth my while. Let’s see the three faces of Hollywood, shall we?

Screwy Ballyhooey Hollywood

Lil Rounds – Still made of awesome. Did she, perhaps, go a little over the top screaming that Whitney song at the judges? Well, yes. (And note to Lil: You’re better than that. Don’t join the loud is the new good cult. Let Mindy Doo be your guide) But it doesn’t matter, noodles, because we loooove her and she already has her ticket stamped to Top 36.

Anouk Desai – I love it when folks that I’ve completely forgotten about from the audition rounds totally sneak up on me and surprise me anew. I loved this kid. Cargo shorts, no? He has a lovely voice. And he’s a cutie. Very cool vibe.

Jasmine Murray – Another one that I liked from early round auditions but had kinda faded from my memory. She is double cute, y’all. Like puppies and kittens and ducklings cute. And she was one of the few kids last night who made a good song choice. You can’t go wrong with the original Idol Ms. Kelly Clarkson provided you can deliver. And she gave us a solid take on this Love, Actually classic. She doesn’t have the EEEEEE just yet (reserved at this time exclusively for Ms. Kelly Clarkson and D’archie when he’s good) but she might get it before all is said and done.

Stephen Fowler – I did not know this ‘fro man at all, but he came out and threw down. Very pretty voice. Work it out, ‘fro man. I got my eye on you.

Jackie Tohn – I wasn’t a huge fan of hers the first go round. Perhaps it was the leotard, noodles? But I will admit that tonight I found her charming in her interview and I was groovin’ on the gritty, rocker chick thing she was working. Somebody’s got to fill the Amanda Overmyer slot. Might as well be her. I’m sure I’ll tire of her soon enough ‘cause honestly, isn’t she kind of a one trick pony? But for now, we are pleased, no?

Danny Golke – Amazingly, he continues to overcome the dead wife sob story by bringing it with crystalline vocals. He had a wonderful tone singing a really, really tough song. Any karaoke denizen will tell you that Kiss from a Rose is no joke. And he totally pulled it off. Good on, ya. I’ve no wish to see his dead wife or his creepy friend anymore, but I suspect we’re stuck with both as long as he is around. And for now, his voice is enough to make me want to keep him on the show. I wonder when things will reach the tipping point.

Oilman He man (AKA Jeremy Sarver) – Still loving on him! This fool can really blow. And he has legitimately cute kids. Go ‘head, Oilman He man. At this rate, I’ll have to start calling him by name soon.

David Osmond – Good voice? Check. Toothy and clean cut cuteness? Check. Boring as all get out? Check. Still don’t care all that much? But you knew that.

Terrific If You’re Even Good Hollywood

Darlings, here’s the section of the recap where we lament all the seemingly good people that we missed. Frankie Jordan? Would’ve loved to see her again. White Stevie Wonder? Not so much, but I certainly would’ve taken him over Dennis “Baby Dreads” Brigham. Mr. Wicked, the only good thing about the SF auditions? Yes, please. Heck, even Brent Keith Smith would’ve at least brought the pretty. And you want me to believe that Jessica Furney did worse than Bikini Girl without showing me so much as a snippet of her audition. Hell to the naw! And what of the faces in the crowd that got passed through that we still know nothing about? Cute black girl with ringlets, I wish we could’ve seen her, or the girl in the blue top, Asia something or other, was adorable. Why didn’t we see her? Did we really need to see that boy with his arm in a sling scream at the camera one more time? Or Simon and Paula have their five millionth lover’s quarrel? Ok, then.

Here’s the section where we also lament some questionable judges calls. To whit:

Nathanial Marshall – Time for more home truths, kiddies. All teenagers think that they have gone through tragic circumstances. And obviously gay teenage boys with way too many tattoos and piercings? Yeah, take that and multiply it by about a billion. But I’m not buying. Save that drama for your momma. On the real, your boy chose a crappy song and didn’t seem like he could really sing all that well. He should’ve gotten the big “Thank you for playing.” Instead, we get to send him off to the group sing where he can break down in new and even more uninteresting ways. Bored now.

Von Smith – Is still too loud. TOO LOUD. And he has such a pretty instrument, y’all. It’s a shame, really. If he could only take it down about 1000 notches, he might really have something working. I really want to like him, so here’s hoping that moving forward, he will decide to stop screaming at me. Work with me, here Von.

Jorge Nunez – Made a huge improvement from Puerto Rico and I still really don’t like him, but he was adorable after making it through, and at this stage, cute buys you a lot. So float on, Jorge.

Phony Super Coney Hollywood

Why did we waste time with these people who, for the most part, didn’t even bother to bring the drama along with their satchel full of requisite badness? Yeah, I give up. But they were there, so they are here in this recap.

Dennis Brigham – Couldn’t sing the first time, couldn’t sing this time. Dude’s a joke. And worst of all, when presented with an opportunity to bust on fools, he couldn’t even clap back. I’ve heard six year olds on the playground snap punks in two and the best this kid can do is a lame joke about Simon’s too tight shirts? Yeah, run along, son. You bother me.

Rose “Filthy Feet” Flack – I do not care about her dead parents. I do not care about her pickaninny braids. I do not care about her played out maxi dress or her manufactured drama. Her filthy feet and the fact that she was still unshod running around the streets of Hollywood distress me and her black soles will haunt my dreams. But what really chafes, kittens, is that she can’t sing all that well. Certainly not well enough to try to play around with the melody on an Otis song, any Otis song, and for damn sure not on Dock of the Bay which is hard enough to sing straight. I really, really want her to go home and take her sob story with her.

Nick/Norman Mitchell/Gentle – Has a really good voice on the QT. Which just makes me mad that he’s such a chickenshit that he has to hide behind this annoying character. He has a decent voice and should trust it and trust us to like him for it. The fact that he’s playing this elaborate joke on mainly himself is the most pathetic thing I can think of. Simon was right. Ad infinitum.

Jamar Rogers – I can try to like the dead wife kid, but not if we have to keep dragging this no talent clown along with him. He can’t sing. Nope. Still. Can’t. Sing. And what the hell is that on his cheek? Mole? Tattoo? Booger? Just dirty? Somebody please tell this fool to step off.

Katrina Darrel – I’m so bored with this one now. I just don’t care anymore. She’s so ordinary and everyone knows that if Simon’s dick somehow gets her into the Top 36, she’ll never make Top 12. The whole sexist bullshit is just so gross and she’s every reason that people throw out there for why this show sucks ass without actually representing anything that this show is about. It’s embarrassing and will be better for everyone when it’s finally done.

Jesus is for the Kids – Still can’t sing any better than your Uncle Tyrone at the backyard BBQ. And he had the nerve to be throwing attitude after he was cut like someone forced him to come on the show. Um, hello. You dragged your not really all that cute kids onto the set with you and begged to be sent through. And then the judges basically told you that you really weren’t good enough to get through but they were going to send you through because they felt sorry for your kids. Catch a clue, dipwad.

Erika Wellsley – Had a fair to middlin’ voice and seriously stank attitude. Why should she have gotten a second chance when none of the other kids did? Parents of America, do you see the entitled little snots that you are unleashing on the world? Get on your j-o-b. For real. Oh, also, Paula and Simon fight number 29 redux. Yawn.

Emily Hughes – I hated this fake ass poser the first time we had to sit through her tired shtick. She’s like a female Fivehead. Her song choice was crap and it was poorly sung. And the judges were always going to put her through because they see dollar signs and a tidy little box to put her in, so the attempt at building suspense was wasted. Welcome to the show, Emily. We’ll see you out long before Top 8. Trust that this is true. Ask Amanda or Amy Adams.


Hollywood week Day One is done. It was just a’ight for me, dawg. (And I never thought I'd say this, but damn, y'all, I miss Randy this season. Frikkin’ Kara Diotimesuck) Tomorrow is the group sing and that girl with the crazy red weave is gonna go off on somebody. And it will be tremendous.