American Idol S8 Finals Ep5 They Won't Go When I Go

Dear President Obama,

Get off my damn TV on Idol night.

Kisses,

Your Loyal Blogger

Kittens, I'm tired and cranky and because of Barack I missed Idol at its regularly scheduled time and have had to scheme and scrape and Youtube scrounge to see the kiddie's performances. They horror, noodles! The horror! And all that to watch a show that wasn't even half as good as it would've been if the Idols had taken my advice as they should have. I mean, imagine if all of them had been as smart as the lovely and talented Kris Allen and sung the songs I told them, too. Wouldn't it be lovely? Enough to make me forget that Paula was wearing a tutu. And with all that tulle to hand, that she failed to stuff Judge #4's mouth up. Enough to make me forget that Simon drew a moustache on P-Dawg. That shit was funny, y'all, but it totally distracted from what should've been even more major props for the way Manic Panic laid it down on Papa Was a Rollin' Stone. (And she's the only one who gets a pass tonight for ignoring my wishes) Enough to make the steaming hot pile of crap that Tattoo Sleeve, White Stevie Wonder and, yes, He-Man Oilman shat out on the stage. Well, there's not enough lovely in the world for that, kiddies, but it would've been a helluva a lot better than what they came up with on their own. Another Motown Night crashed upon the shoals.

Safe Harbor

Allison Iraheta/Papa Was a Rollin' Stone - Manic Panic needs to work on her enunciation a skoosh. And there were some missed words here and there, but darlings? She blew it out of the box. She finally justified the pimp slot. Third time's the charm I guess. It's about damn time the show realizes what a good thing they've got. She was bluesy, growly, soul/funk fierce! This girl has such an old soul vibe. It took the wardrobe crack whores finally putting her in a WTF-fit to finally, finally put her over the top, huh? She can dress like a teenage prostitute/scarecrow for the rest of the season if it guarantees her bringing it like that all the way to the finale.

Adam Lambert/Tears of a Clown - Can something that understated be labeled over the top? In Adam's case, yeah, I think so. Kittens, this kid is always doing the final number in the Broadway show in his mind. And I frikkin' love it. The vocals were, perhaps, not quite as pristine as in week's past. It's hard to stay that long in false and not slip some. And the look was perplexing until you realize that he was doing a total put on . . . it was performance art again. The child is a chameleon and he is always always fucking with you/trying to fuck you. Take your pick. He blew my mind. Broken down doll Elvis, what?

Kris Allen/How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) - I wanted him to sing it. He sang it. He rocked it with that white boy soul thing I knew he could bring. Listen to your Auntie Blogger, kiddies. She's seldom wrong. Still lovin' on this kid.

Any Port in the Storm

Lil Rounds/Heatwave - This song has been many a better singer's Waterloo on this competition. Kim and J. Hud both tried and failed. This is a dancing song, a party song. This is the song that everyone can sing reasonably well on karaoke night. This is also a stealth singer's song. It's incredibly difficult to sing, but it fools you with the deceptively simple melody. Lil didn't do terribly with it. I actually thought she did better with it than J. Hud did in her attempt, for example. But this song did not allow her to show what she's got. As I noted, she really needed a home run here and she basically hit a ground rule double. (I heard that once in like Major League but I have no idea what it means) I think she's in trouble, probably not this week because, you know, Megan, but she's already out of the running towards becoming the next American Idol. Loved the dress. Hated the hair. Wardrobe crack whores - 1. Tranny make up artists - 0.

Anoop Desai/Oooh, Baby, Baby - He sounded fine and I had forgotten what he sang by the time the show ended. He's still as fine as candy, but let's recall industry rule #4080. Be bad, be good, but don't be boring. He should skate this week, but he needs to turn it way up to make top 5.

Man Overboard

Matt Giraud/Let's Get It On - Automatic fail if your name is not Marvin Gaye. Cheese factory and he sounded kind of like fried ass for about half the song. Dropping like a rock is this one, noodles. He's bringing smarmy back. And nobody even wanted it. And is the growth on his face getting bigger? It's not just me, is it? OK. Just checking.

Danny Gokey/Get Ready - Frikkin' Gokey and his Lenscrafter ass. You do NOT diss Smokey. That man has crapped more great music than you have tired spectacle frames, fool. You bow down. You listen and you learn. Or else, you decide to say "Fuck that noise" and wind up looking like an idiot on national television, much as Gokey did tonight. And he sounded bad, too, kittens. For the first time, the golden voice was scratchy, screechy and flat in spots. His heinous personality is rubbing off on that beautiful instrument of his. At least the judges are beginning to pick up on the fact that this tool is too hated to actually win this show. I suspect the bell has already tolled for the Dead Wife pimper. I bet she'll make an appearance any day now. Along with the pierce faced friend. And then I will throw a bible through my TV and pray that the Lord delivers me another one in time for next week's show.

White Stevie Wonder/You Can't Hurry Love - What other way can I say Crystal Ballroom champagne brunch singer? And amazingly, he escaped being the worst of the week once again. This season is trying to break me. Between White Stevie, Tattoo Sleeve, Gokey, Judge #4, Randy losing the last vestiges of his mind . . . killing me softly. He was out of tune the whole song. Again. Some more. He's a piano player. You'd think that he could at least be in the same neighborhood as the notes he's supposed to be singing. And when a blind man doesn't do worse in dressing himself than your wardrobe monkeys on a day-to-day basis? Yeah, it's time to get a new wardrobe staff.

Michael Sarver/Ain't Too Proud to Beg - This is the part where I started crying. It was a joke, darlings. I swear! I never thought someone would actually be cheesy enough to sing it. Y'all, He-Man Oilman totally had the wool pulled over my eyes. I was blind, but now I see. This fool can't sing. Well, he can't really sing. He's that guy you hear in the employee lounge belting it out to his ipod and everybody says, "Boy, that Mike sure can sing." And then Mike turns it out at the office karaoke night and everyone thinks he coulda been a contender. But the truth is he doesn't have a great voice. He just has a great voice compared to the rest of your non-singing friends. Yeah, that's Michael Sarver in a nutshell. And to top it all of, he's developed an attitude. Bye bye, He-Man Oilman. Back to the rig for you.

Megan Corkery/For Once In My Life - So I have to give her one one hundreth of a point for singing an actual song this week. And of course, in doing so, she's proven why she previously had only ever sung non-song songs. Because she can't sing, y'all. Damn. It's so, so serious. That sucked tremendous amounts of ass. I can't even begin to describe it. Frikkin' tattoo sleeve. Kittens, she must go. Must go. It's a joke. So. Much. Hate.

If it's not Tattoo Sleeve or Sarver receiving their send off from Ryan while Carrie tries to sing Home Sweet Home tomorrow night, I'll be shocked. Personally, I could lose everyone except for Adam, Allison, Kris and Anoop.

Can we retire Motown Week? Put it out there in the pasture right beside "Gloria Estefan" Week and "I'll Take Songs Gwen Stefani Might Like for $200, Alex" Week? Because that would, indeed, be lovely.