American Idol S9 Ep1 Farewell to All That

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine. Kittens, so it begins. No Paula. Soon to be no Simon. Ryan is dressed like the worlds most tidily groomed homeless person. (Whither the bespoke suits?) And for some inexplicable reason, Judge #4 is still alive and kicking. But hey, Randy is useless and Posh looked twelve different flavors of emaciated and crazy, so it’s good to know that some things never change. I’ve wailed and gnashed my teeth with the best of them as Simon Fuller and Cecile Frot-Coutaz have attempted to destroy everything good and decent about this show, but you know what, noodles? The bitches got me again. How can I hold out against the Portuguese speaking, Alzheimer’s granny who looks like a frailer Sophia Petrillo and just wants to see her granddaughter sing on the Kodak Theater stage before she loses her whole entire mind and turns into a drooling, tapioca pooping shadow of her former self, especially when the girl in question can flat out blow and turns in a rendition of At Last that was better than Beyonce’s Inauguration Ball performance by several clicks and said girl made me plum forget how much I abhor 16 year olds on AI? I KNOW! How do they do it, noodles? It’s elementary. No matter what drama is going on As the Judges Turn, this show is, at its root, about the kids. (If only Judge #4 could get that through all the peanut butter between her ears she’d be so much less heinous than she is) And as soon as the kids start making it do what it do, this show is magic, kiddies. Magic. Sit back, relax and prepare to have your heart stomped for the next several weeks. Our favorite dysfunctional family is doing it to it. And doing it like it should be done. Let’s saddle up.

Boston, Massachusetts

I’m going to blame everyone’s bad fashion on the hated Boston Celtics. Kara DioIstillsucktremendousamountsofass being the first judge on my TV? Fail. Simon’s man boobs clinging to that tight white t-shirt? Fail. Ryan Seacrest in jeans and a t-shirt? Epic fail. Posh weighing in at half a pound with water wings on her hips and a crazy lace schmatta tied around her head? Well, that was kind of awesome, but in the abstract? Fail. Who else to blame but the Celtics? Oh, and they made it rain, too.

Janet McNamara is a famewhore and a fake ass faker and I refuse. Her only redeeming quality is that she had no idea who Judge #4 was and kept calling her Paula. Whee!

Maddy Curtis – Is 16 and is trailing three Down’s syndrome brothers behind her which is unfortunate and pretty much marks her as exactly the kind of contestant that I will hate on site. And yet, she did a decent job with Hallelujah. She has a pleasant voice, I suppose. Nothing to write home about. And heaven knows she needs styling more than any person on the planet. The Downs boys dressed her, don’t you think? How else to explain the camel toe shorts and the Birkenstocks and the ratty-tatty hair? I kind of hope she makes the show just so the trannyhos can get their hands on her. They can hardly do worse, no? Eh, she’s not your next American Idol, but she’ll make decent cannon fodder.

Pat Ford – Was the best thing ever on this show. Famewhores, take note. That is how it’s motherfucking done. If he’d been able to sing even a little bit at all, he’d have won this whole show. Darlings, he broke it the hell on down on Womanizer. Did you check the choreography? I love this kid. I want him to come to my home and watch Idol with me. We will snark and be fabulous together and he can teach me that better than Brittany combo. Seriously, Pat Ford. Hit me up. I want to get to know ya.

Jennifer Hirsch, some girl in Blue, and Jesse Wolf – One of these things is not like the others, no? Jennifer can sing her butt off and her audition choice of Ding, Dong, The Witch Is Dead was inspired. Love her. Blue girl and Jesse Wolf could not really sing. And in the case of Jesse, make that could not sing even a little bit. Jesse, you’re just that good that you can riff all over People Get Ready? Because you’ve got it like that? Bitch, please. Find the melody first and then come back and talk to me. Yick. That’s another Tattoo Sleeve in the making right there.

Amadeo DiRicco – Hoochie Coochie Man? What? That Italian white boy blew the doors off on that song. Muddy Waters rose up out of his grave to give him some dap. I suspect that this one is going to break my heart, much like He Man Oilman did last year, by being that guy that everyone thinks can really sing, but can’t really sing. He can only sing in relation to how well everyone else you know can sing. But for now, I enjoyed the hell out of this dude. Noodles, I love when contestants surprise me this deep into this predictable show. Simon also dug this dude and I love it when Mr. Cowell’s cynicism cracks just a little bit and he gets excited about an auditioner. And though I fear the Sopranos clichés and I fear for my poor pocket gays continued health and safety around all those big burly men, on the whole, I’m happy to see Amadeo move on. I hope he can bring it like that on other songs.

Derek Hilton – Is in desperate need of some Pro-Activ. Call JSimp. She can hook you up and she’s not too busy just lately. And “I hit really loud notes”? Dammit, kids. Loud is not the new good, all evidence from AI to the contrary. No wonder top 40 radio is unadulterated crap. Hitting notes really loud does not equal good singing. Please trust that this is so. Kiddies, must we learn this lesson anew every single season. Also, never, never reference Chris Brown and his ability to “touch people”. Seriously. Ever. I mean, really? This child has no home training.

Mary Doyle is a famewhore and a fake ass faker who can’t even muster some crocodile tears for the cameras and I refuse.

Luke Shaffer – And Paula just came on her couch, darlings. Was there ever any doubt that this kid was gonna get through despite his somewhat mediocre vocal stylings? Judge #4 wanted to do him on the judges’ table. I’m sure Posh would’ve joined in if her bones weren’t so brittle. Eh, whatever. He’s pretty wallpaper at this stage.

Benjamin Bright – On the other hand, kittens, this kid has a really pretty voice. Too bad he’s pudgy and kind of blah. Maybe with different hair? Nah. I wish him the best, but I don’t see him going very far, do you? I mean, I’ve already forgotten what he sang.

Andrew Fenlon is another fake ass faker which came back to bite him in the ass when it turned out that he had an incredibly beautiful voice. Family, he shut it down with that version of House of the Rising Sun. He was killing it. And because he came in talking all that yang, he wound up getting dissed and dismissed by Posh and Judge #4. Oh, the humanity!

Bill Bloom, Michael Ryan, what the fuck is wrong with y’all? Adam Lambert is not every gay theater boy and not every gay theater boy is Adam Lambert.

Ashley Rodriguez – Was definitely going to get through due to Judge #4 and her love affair with “package artists” AKA pretty people who can’t really sing but that’s OK because their voices can be autotuned beyond recognition and then their albums can be sold because they are pretty. And of course Posh loved her because she was her 10 years and 100 pounds ago. So anyway, she’s not terrible. If I Ain’t Got You was way too big for her. She could reach top 12 where she’d get promptly Scarnato’ed or she could be out day one during Hollywood Week. Time will tell.

Tyler Brady – Has that whole skinny, white rocker boy sexy thing going on. I was grooving on it. And he can sing, though he chose the absolutely wrong song for him. Unless your first name is Marvin and your last name is Gaye, you can’t sing Let’s Get It On. It just comes of cheesy. As it did here with this kid. But he’s got a nice voice and an ass load of charisma, so he could go far. Also, tree climbing? What is he? 5? White people are such a mystery to me.

Lisa Olivero and Ryan Keane are delusional in almost exactly the same way except that Lisa Olivero at least has a tremendo culo. Discuss.

Mike Davis – Made me agree with Randy and y’all know how much I hate to agree with Randy. But the Dawg was right. This kid has a good, not great voice. And he’s not really all that charismatic or all that cute. (In desperate need of a shave. Dammit, white boys, let the goatee go. I’m begging you) Did you remember what he sang? That’s OK, kittens. Neither did I. I had to go back to my notes and look it up and it was Yesterday. Who forgets Yesterday? It’s iconic. Although, not in this kid’s hands because he’s the epitome of milquetoast. Next.

Katie Stevens – Cutest grandma ever. Voice is no joke. 16. Bah. Get older, faster. It’s too much to ask for another Manic Panic so soon after the last one.

Joshua Blaylock – Is cross-eyed and his voice is too nasally all up in his nasal. (I miss you, Pau Pau!) He will never make this show and I’m already tired of all the daily affirmations. Why put him through? Just so Simon can fuck with him. He hates every single person left on this show, y’all. It’s so sad. How many times did he get up and just walk away from the table. No wonder he’s leaving at the end of the season. I think he really might murder Judge #4 before the season’s done. To which I say a hearty, “Hell, yeah!”

Justin Williams – He’s a cancer survivor, a missionary, cute as a button and he can blow in a very Buble kind of way? This kid is so money. I certainly hope he can get beyond the throw back, hipster vibe. I think he can, because he destroyed Feelin’ Good. I like this kid. A lot.

Norberto Guerrero – Sings like a 3 year old. Dresses like Latoya Jackson . . . with a beard. I love you, Simon Cowell. Don’t ever change.

Bosa – I missed the last name but does it even matter? He’s not that great a singer and he’s kind of fugly. They just put him through so that they could use The Lion King music and make fun of his mom’s head wraps. Stay classy, show.

Leah Lorenti – She has a lovely voice and she did a nice rendition of Blue Skies. Now she can skip off the melody and still stay in tune and have a little fun with the song (even though she flubbed the lyrics a skoosh). It was all to the good with this one except . . . well, she’s a little narigona, no, kittens? But so was Babs. It could totally work. Anyway, she wasn’t exactly a show closer (I’d have gone with Katie or Justin, maybe Tyler) but she was solid.

Is that it? Are we done? Time flies, noodles. As does that fat boy doing that Russian split jump, what? That was fire. There’s no one I love from this first show, save Katie. And even that love is tainted by her 16-ness. But I do like a couple: Leah, Justin, Tyler. And since we didn’t see half of the ones who made it through, as is the show’s custom, who knows how many I really like from this evening?

Bring on the dirty south tomorrow. I see you, ATL.