American Idol S8 Finales Ep 22 I Know I'll Never Love This Way Again

Kittens, where to even begin? I’m on sensory overload. That was my favorite AI finale of all time. It kicked tremendous amounts of ass. It made me relinquish all hate. I found myself sympathizing with Kara and throwing her a pitying “Oh, baby, no!” when she let the odious Simon Fuller and Cecile Frot Coutaz put her in a bikini and do some horrible sing for your life against Bikini Girl and her Ms. California special boobs. Judge #4 is better than that, y’all. I felt a slight stirring of the love I once had for Danny Gokey as he flaunted his ability to totally geek out and do the nerd groove with Lionel Richie while Paula partied, caramba’d, fiesta forevered in her lingerie. I marveled as Matt Giraud absolutely destroyed every song that he attempted and rocked the bucket hat better than one Mr. Jason Mraz. I embraced Lil Rounds and her fierce look during that Queen Latifah number. I would wear every single thing that she had on. And that ass? Still out of control. Girl was looking fly as hell. And Scott McIntyre had some moves, y’all. He totally kept up in that dance number to Do You Think I’m Sexy? How great was this finale? Tattoo Sleeve actually sounded not half bad on her duet with He Man Oilman on that Steve Martin joint. Season 8 was magic, y’all. Definitely my favorite season since S3.

And that was just the bad shit, noodles. The good shit was out of this world amazing. I can’t even . . . I just can’t. What did I love most? Anoop and Alexis rescuing I’m Yours from that early season massacre of a group sing during semi-finals. And then being joined by Mraz himself, and he was in fine voice darlings! Love. The girls group singing on the only Fergie song that I can abide, Glamorous. (What can I say, kiddies? It's my kryptonite. Maybe because it was on GG?) And then BEP coming out and being for the most part pretty great. That includes Fergie, even though she looks like she’s a wax figurine, rocking a one piece romper and Sasha Fierce glove. (Tattoo Sleeve was also rocking the romper and side fashion note to designers world wide. Stop trying to make theromper happen. It’s not going to happen)

Or what about the single greatest thing to happen on that Idol stage not involving Adam or Kris? Manic Panic. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper and Time After Time. Kittens, I was undone. There are no words for how much I loved that performance. That little chola can sing her face off. She hung in there with Cyndi Lauper, who is a pop goddess and all around cool being. Not only was it one of the best performances of the night, I think it might be one of the top Idol performances ever. I want them to record that tonight so that I can buy it tomorrow and play it every day for the rest of my life.

Kittens, forget about the bullshit Golden Idols. Forget about Carlos Santana, guitar player extraordinaire and purveyor of really high priced stripper heels. Forget about giving over precious, precious time with the AI-lettes so that Rod Stewart could croak out Maggie May again. None of that even mattered, no? Because from the moment they walked out in their blinding white angel gear, Kris and Adam owned this night.

Kris is already a bigger star with more charisma than Mr. Nicole Kidman and he sounded insanely great on that country rock ditty. This is why he won, kiddies. Trust that this fool will sell millions and millions of records. Oh, and yep. Still hotter than the sun. And right here was where I reconfirmed that I would be good with him winning. I was good. Kris has got that special thing, too. It’s not at all like Adam in any way, but it is so much more appropriate for this show than our little glitter baby. You could not have genetically engineered a more perfect AI winner. Kris Allen is AI and AI is him. Peace. I was content. I even gave it up to the honey dip. I truly believed that he was the better winner for this season. Do your thing, sexy. You got it.

But then Adam Lambert. Oh my stars and garters! Darlings, I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. The costume and the platforms and the sparkly, glitter eyeliner. KISS on the AI stage with fireworks and flames and smashing guitars. And y’all, I had to take it all back. How could you, America? How could you not recognize the genius that is this kid? Now look, I love the honey dip, but he’s chicken liver to Adam’s foie gras. Damn, just damn.

And then the end came around and the two of them just slayed me. Slayed me. Kris + Adam + Brian May and the boys from Queen + We Are the Champions = Automatic Win. Made of Win. And that’s when I had to finally come to a point of acceptance. Kris is the winner and I’m OK with that, but it ain’t right. Go back and watch that performance again. Watch Adam completely blow Kris off the stage. Watch him fully inhabit Freddie’s impossibly big shoes and make that song, and us by extension, his bitch. Watch Brian May fall in love with this kid. Watch and tell me that he’s not better than Kris. Kris is awesome. I would like to take him somewhere and do bad things to him for which there exists no coupon. But this is talent we’re talking here and Kris himself said it best. Should’ve been Adam. Dammit, America. Can’t trust you bitches with anything.

That’s OK. I’m going to file that We Are the Champions performance away right next to Danny’s SYTYCD solo under the heading of “Perfect Things”. Whenever I am feeling down, or even just a little bit blue, I will watch those two things in my head on a continuous loop with the first Mad Love, and Allison’s sing out and her performance tonight with Cyndi Lauper and Blake’s Body Language and Mia’s group dance featuring Mark from last season’s SYTYCD and ‘Tasia’s I Believe. I will watch these things and remind myself that while reality TV often breaks my heart, it just as often brings great joy to my life and provides me with moments of true beauty, which is more than I can say for most scripted TV.

I can’t write anymore, kittens. I’m spent and I have to save my strength because tomorrow comes two hours of SYTYCD and the return of Cat Deeley. What? I may have a post to sum up my Season 8 AI journey at some future time. Season 8 was a conundrum. So much to hate, but the kids made me love it through the sheer force of their fantasticness. I will listen to that horrid coronation song because Kris made it real tonight and I loved it because I love him. Verily, I will not only listen, but also sing along as I'm bopping down the freeway groovin' to Ryan's show on KIIS FM. I will eagerly await Adam's debut album while I speculate on they myriad ways he is going to freak me the fuck out. Everything else is a distraction.

Season 8 was soooo gooooooooodddd, kittens. And who ever thought it would be back during the dog days round about the Jacksonville auditions? Drink it in.