Noodles, let’s deal with the Adam thing quickly because I have to talk about the real crime last night. Being in the B3 wasn’t some big shock. Color me unsurprised. As I said in my recap, the vocals on that song were less than his usual perfection and it worked for me, but much like the Ring of Fire performance, I can bet that there was more than one Midwestern household whose occupants were going “What the fuck was that?” after he got done. B2 was a little surprising, but that just shows that Kris has got some serious juice. Boy has been a comer all season long so please do not sleep on the lovely and talented Mr. Allen. And ultimately, time in the B3 will be good for our little alien glam boy/girl sex god. You could tell by his attitude (and the perfectly delicious backstage footage of Kris and Adam having a flirty little pow wow) that he was really not caring all that much. But his fans will care a lot and will be motivated to get off their skinny jeans clad butts, stop counting their glitter covered chickens before they hatch, and actually vote this fool into the finale where he belongs.
No kittens, none of the purportedly OMG stuff from last night was really all that heart stopping. What really shocked the conscience was the blatant attempt to make us believe that somehow the Dawg and Judge #4 are more than random wastes of space and air time at the end of the row down from Simon and his increasing irrelevance and desperate attempts to cling to a time when he was young and fit enough to rock a tight, white tee and Paula’s ever more brazen breasts. I’m sorry; I’m just not buying it. Ryan, you’re my favorite wee closet gay of all time and I would drink your bath water, but you will never, never convince me that Judge #4 has an intelligence level above most single celled organisms, especially not when she admits to blowing one of your contestants on the regular on live national television. And when the best advice that the Dawg can come up with for a man with a mini-teeth/mini-hair tumor hidden under a bucket hat and a serious case of goat voice vibrato is to “continue to make it hot?” Yeah. Useless. Simon would have to come up there and dribble into a sippy cup for the next three thousand seasons to make a smackdown between him and the dynamic duo even a remotely fair fight. Egregious, darlings.
The rest of last night’s show was just kind of there, no? Now that Lil and her stank face are gone, the kids actually did the group sing live completely putting the lie to the producer’s excuse that the schedule was just so demanding that they couldn’t possibly learn a routine that any half way decent HS show choir could master in an afternoon. (Watch Glee and make your blogger really, really happy, kittens!) And let me tell you, the fact that we had weeks and weeks of lip synched crap because people like Lil and White Stevie Wonder and Tattoo Sleeve did not have the vocal chops to stay in tune during a one minute medley chaps my ass more than any brief sojourn that Adam takes in the B3, darlings. Trust. So anyway, the kids sang. They all sounded lovely because they have actual talent. Kris looked like the cutest farmhand you’ve ever seen. Adam looked like he didn’t really want to be there. And Frikkin’ Gokey continued to be disturbingly hot and if someone could tell me how to make that stop, I’d be most appreciative. Kisses.
Then the kids continued to look ridiculously beautiful in the pimpmercial, which was one of the better ones with the cool black and white cinematography and the fade into a full color shot of the inhumanly beautiful face of one Kris Allen. And on the real, kiddies? Hotter than the sun! It’s not possible to be that beautiful.
Then we had not one, not two, but three pointless guest performances because the results show has to be an hour or else the world will implode or something. Natalie Cole looked insanely skinny but somehow still amazing despite wearing gold Glad Bags as a dress, but she has some kind of consumption so I will give her a pass. Her voice sounded like ass, but she still managed to rock the hell out of Something’s Gotta Give because she’s a fucking pro. AI-lettes, take notes. She and Ryan then babbled about Korea and Orange County and I don’t know if that was secretly a little bit racist, but I think it might have been. Sadly, Jamie Foxx was just as bad live as he always is, and for the love of god, will someone please murder T-Pain and bury all of his vocoders so deep in the desert that they will never be recovered already? That shit is killing modern urban radio, noodles. Taylor Hicks was there and I refuse. That’s all.
So after a lot of shenanigans and the millionth played out rendition of the Annual “Stand with the Group of Non-Losers” Bo Bice Memorial Sit On the Stage Invitational (which Adam refused to play and god love him for it), a teary eyed Matt G. was sent home. And a weary, goat voice, vibrato battered nation was grateful.
Slash and Adam in the same universe is turning my brain into mushy goop as we speak and I’m loving it. The theme is right and the players set for the longed for Gokey boot. Let’s see what happens next week, shall we?
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