It's All Come Down to This

Well, after months of highs, lows, upsets, glory, and great legs, it's all come down to this. And when it comes to guessing who the winner of this year's American Idol is, the answer is quite clear. It's me. Obviously. Because last night, instead of watching the AI finale that no one cares about at its regularly scheduled time of 8pm, I was busy standing 15 feet away from *the* American Idol himself, Mr. Elliott Yamin, as he crooned his album out for hundreds of people at Bowery Ballroom. And lemme tell ya.. anyone listening to that kind of talent, coupled with even larger humility and great songs to match did not regret missing this year's Mouseketeers vying for the "crown" at the Kodak Theatre. In every sense of the word, Elliott was masterful as always, lovable, amazing, real, genuine and all-around worth the money. As we walked away from the stage completely satisfied and then some, I heard another fan say to her friend: "Now THAT was an $100 concert right there!". Couldn't have put it better. We love you. We do. And no contestant has had that kind of soul-dripping vocal prowess and polish since.

Seeing my man sing live for the first time allowed me to advance to the finale. My win didn't come until about 20 minutes later, when, with the help of my friend, we were allowed back into the empty ballroom to meet and greet E Double L himself. I got a picture (sure I look like a fool, but we were sweaty from all the manic shouting throughout the concert), I got a hankshake, I got to tell him how much I sweat him, and I even got to give him my card in case he's looking for someone new to open for him on future tours. Whether or not it was for real, the man actually listened to every word, looked me in the eye the whole time, wished me as much good luck on my career as I did him, and honestly took interest in the card I gave him. Not to mention the mutual chest pound we gave ourselves in honor of Jewish R&B singers. True, it's quite an exclusive club, but we haven't set up passwords just yet. In short, he's the epitome of what "celebrity singers" should be today and so aren't: immensely vocally talented, humble beyond measure, just thankful for what they've accomplished thus far, and real to those who speak to them. And thanks to him, I clearly won the night.

Then I came home and watched the kiddies duke it out for second and third place. Everytime Blake and Jordin get up there and sing now, I keep waiting for Pluto and Mickey to come skipping out behind them as backup singers, doing a sychronized Temptations-esque jig around their mics. Maybe they're waiting to do that during tonight's results show. I mean, cartoons are celebrities too y'know. But regardless, all the night really amassed to was Blake sucking, then Jordin being great when she needed to be, and then no one caring. Oh wait, I already said that before. Whatever. It's not like this is even a contest anyway.

Jordin bored to tears on the Xtina song, mainly because you can't sing "Fighter" with dead arms at your side, never moving an inch as you eek out the right runs in the right places. She handled it vocally in that there were no major mistakes, but Simon was most certainly co-REKT about the screetching tendencies she has when she goes up high and isn't supporting breathing-wise. But, at least she sang, which is more than one can say for Blake.

His first go was as Cirque de Soleil as he's ever been, and I'm pretty sure the drummer soloed more than he did the entire song. And that's not great when the 3% of the song that did involve singing sounded like apeshit. What's new. Presence-wise though, he was leagues more confident and commanding on stage than Jordy, which left me just wishing we had so much more to choose from than this duo at the end of a long and very mysterious season.

The rest of the show was Jordin reclaiming her undeniable right as winner, so I don't really need to go into details. I will say this though. As much as I can't wait for Blake to instantaneously combust when RyRy calls the results tonight, I feel he got little less than ASSAULTED by the producers when it came time for him and Jordin to sing their new single. At no moment in any day will Blake be able to pull off a song that is so cheesified Disney ballad pop as is "This is My Now". It was as though the Sparks Football Inc. mafia broke into the Kodak theatre a few hours before showtime and strangled whichever dude used to be in charge of giving the final 2 contestants a choice in what song they'd like to sing as their new single. For several seasons past, singers have been able to choose a single that best suited their vocal style (Taylor and KittyKat being the most recent example). This time around, Blake was ripped a new one - being forced to sing such sugary awfulness that even I, his sworn enemy, felt bad for him. Not only was it abysmal to listen to, it was borderline unfair, when no one is voting for Blake to sing a song like that, nor would Blake ever release a song anywhere near that genre. What's more, the single was hand-crafted to fit every curve on Jordin's body. So, someone inside the ranks pulled the plug hard and fast on the SPR-Lewis merger, just in time to make tonight's results the largest landslide in AI history no doubt. That's okay. I'm sure Chris Richardson has already laid out the rose petals on the bed to console his lover in the aftermath.

So, we'll watch tonight, knowing full well that if Melinda Doolittle had been on that stage, she would have wiped the floor with both of their faces WHILE singing whatever songs she chose to kick ass at. It's a travesty beyond measure, and it all but crippled AI's credibility as a vehicle for finding "the best vocal talent in America". My ass. Everytime they panned on former contestants in the audience, half the time I wanted to hear *them* sing a song more than the 2 up there. Shit, I even wanted to hear Ricky Schroeder do a ditty than whatever Blake was fumbling through. But like I said, not much was lost, in that I was with the Truth last night instead, live and in the flesh, and he made this year's finale all but a blip on a much more interesting screen.

And so, as I sign off until next season, I say only this: Here's to caring again in 2008. Because I assure you, no matter what the hype may try to throw our way, America has SO MUCH MORE in the way of musical talent than this. Until then, at least, I can put a point on the board for mixed girls. Congrats Jordy!

Three's a Charm

Well, now that I'm no longer emotionally invested in how American Idol shakes out this year, it's easier to focus on much more important things at hand. Like the fact that my musical husband, Elliot "E Double L" Yamin is performing live in concert here in New York next Tuesday night, and I'll be in attendance, along with my other Yamin-obsessed friends who know he's a truer American Idol than anyone vying for the crown this year. That's not to take anything away from how solidly the 3 remaining karaokers sang last night, but it is helpful when putting things in perspective. Everywhere I go, people seem at best neutral and at worst despondent about how the contestants have panned out this year on the show. The singers who are participating have undeniable talent, and Blake is clearly a phenomenal trapeze artist just waiting to happen. But there's no movement, the stuff that makes you tear up, care about who's singing, care about their story, their hope for the crown, the graceful imperfections that made past winners so sincerely lovable. It's too bad - given that AI is surely at its pinnacle as far as ratings go - that they couldn't have done a better job of letting in the great along with the almost-great. It skews many unsuspecting viewers' notions of what truly inspiring singers sound like, while 12 months ago, that was never a problem. But hey, the trifecta put on the brass knuckles in spots, enough to make it entertaining enough. I do wonder though, if they were to reprise "Three's Company", who would be Cindy and who would be Janet? Oh forget it, as long as Simon plays Mr. Roper, I'm game.

So, somehow three people managed to make 9 songs happen last night, to varying degrees of quality. And while there's no question Blake is the one thing that's not like the others, he managed to camouflage his horribleness just enough to make the results show tonight somewhat interesting. Calling it a nail-biter would be pushing it, but hey, he was more memorable than Jordin 2 out of 3 times, and if you're memorable, you're usually in very good shape on a show like this. It helped that the SPR-Lewis merger was still in full effect last night, but I'll get to that insanity in a minute.

Without further ado, I bring you a recap of what the threebies managed to do without having to worry about Lakisha anymore. And yes, in case you're wondering, we're doing just fine. Thank you for asking.

1. Jordin finally got the wardrobe choices right this time, which is really her main selling point if she's ever to oust The Doo. Her first vocal was spot-on, aside from a few wavering lines in the beginning which I will graciously cast away as first-slot nerves. See? Aren't I nice? Yeah, you know I am. Aside from taking a few lines to settle in, she made it work and really didn't mess up anywhere. But Simon's choice was most definitely too boring and safe for her, not to mention too old. Perhaps he gave her that song because he wants Melinda to win, or because he thought she'd youngify it in some interesting way, or both. But as smooth as it was, it didn't glisten in the memory bank, and that's where the money's gotta go at this stage. Yet, by the look of her dad's game face, you could tell he had given her the key x's and o's before sending his girl out on to the field. The insane fire in his eyes that still prevents the man from ever smiling summed up what I know had to be his sideline pep talk for Jordy backstage: y'know, how Melinda and Blake were likely planning a weakside blitz and that going long into man coverage would be fine; they'd find a way to get her the BALL, damnit! So help him they will! As long as he didn't pat his own daughter on the ass, I'm okay with it.

2. Then Blake came on stage and tried to convince himself that he was Sting. Like he's tried to convince us this entire ride that he's a singer. Cute. The cavemanic yawning came back in spots, only to be replaced with shouting in others. Oh, and then he managed the mind-boggling feat of singing in roughly 4 different keys at a midway stop. It all happened so fast that my neck cramps couldn't even keep up with it. But Paula did in fact pick a great style of song for him, which really is the only reason they still keep her on this show; she's always good for coming through at judges' picks time. That said, let me give you a comparative reference when thinking about how she reacted to Blake, versus how she reacted when Elliot sang her song choice last year. 2006? Tears and a sincere struggle to convey how much she understood his power as an artist, to express how much his singing and story moved her. 2007? Lisa Simpson clapping. Moving right the hell on once again.

3. With her first selection of the night, Melinda did the unthinkable. She somehow managed to purge all the hatred she had undoubtedly amassed for Randy Jackson after hearing what he forced her to sing, which helped her avoid violently gnawing off his head during her first go onstage. The SECOND the first of Whitney's insanely yet subtly difficult chords dropped, I in turn dropped my head in shame. Now, I have known for a long time that the Rand has slept with several men and women in recent weeks to help Blake advance as far as he has. But to then go so far as to throw "I Believe in You and Me" at Melinda Doolittle, at this pivotal point in the competition... I swear I saw the horns poking out of his forehead as she bowed to his satanic orders. WHO IN GOD'S NAME ASSIGNS THAT KIND OF A WHITNEY HOUSTON SONG TO MELINDA DOOLITTLE?!?!? WHO???!! After weeks and weeks of telling her how much she's her very own Tina Turner revival, after seeing how raw and soulful her jazz/gospel delivery is... you throw her the cryptonite and tell her to sound like Whitney in her heydey. It's like telling gravel to turn into ice cream. Except that it's really, really, exceptionally talented gravel. But gravel all the same. She's a rough and tough singer, a howler, a power phraser; NOT a smooth and soaring balladeer. Simply put, imagine if the Prince of Egypt soundtrackers had asked Tina Turner to sing "When You Believe" alongside Mariah instead. Go ahead. Listen to that in your head. And no, I won't wipe up your vomit for you. Randy's an ASSHOLE for hitting below the belt, and LindyLoo did the best she could, which wasn't really outstanding like she can be. And, not surprisingly, the Rand confessed his sins in his remarks, saying he wanted to throw some "difficulty" her way. That's dawgspeak for "I really want Blake to win this so I can get my bonus". F you, Rand. F to the You. Luckily though, Simon put his cape on, fists on hips, chest and too-tight tee up and out, and came to the rescue with healthy praise and a Round 1 victory vote. He knew what was going on, and we all know Simon loves black women too much to let Shmandy rain on his parade.

4. Jordy came back and sang about working hard for money. Then Paula basically called her a stripper while attempting to make a bad pun. What's new. She sang it well, and ended it rather awesomely, but also looked highly uncomfortable in the gold pumps they put her in. As if that girl needs to be any taller. But I know it was for slimming reasons more than any other. Trouble is, as Simon correctly pointed out, it wasn't memorable, it was 80's in the dated way, and it didn't show us why she's so fresh and so clean clean. Which she HAS to do in order to win this thing. She's not cute enough to ride on looks alone, and luckily she's got a badass voice as long as she's not going low. Ever. Hey, maybe when she's a star we can nickname her NoLo. And then she and JLo do a duet. And by duet I mean Jenny from the Block can be a background dancer and Jordy can sing. And by duet I also mean that Jenny can be in the video cuz she's galaxies hotter, and Jordy can just be a random, unpersonified voice. Damn. I'm being mean again. Oh well. Nice had it's paragraph.

5. Blake came on and did the song he was meant to do, and it SHOCKED ME beyond measure that he had yet to perform that song until then. He sounded as much like someone who would amputate quite a few limbs to be Adam Levine, and made it work. It was a perfect song choice for him, and he finally used beatboxing in an unoffensive manner, which I greatly, vastly, appreciated. I was buying it for the first time since - oh wait, he's never made me buy anything, especially not out of that damned inside jacket pocket of his. But I gave it a green light this go 'round, and for once saw how he could advance past this round, even if the world quickly cracks in half as a result.

6. Then Melinda came on and smacked it silly. So much so that I'm pretty convinced she was actually trying to warp time and space into the form of a quantum spatial smack that would quickly send Randiculous to some cold, lonely street corner. She was perfect, she was authentic, she was powerful, and she couldn't give 1 shit whether anybody watching knew the song. Of course, we who know that Tina Turner was likely Hera in a past life knows it, but I'm sure all those folks who were cheering on Blake and the Mayor back in Randomtown, Washington don't. Didn't matter. She showed such range between the first and second go-rounds, and made no mistake about who's on top and why. In a word, KILLA.

7. As if we hadn't had enough already, the trio returned for their own selections, which really weren't going to go wrong, obviously. Jordizzle went to what she knows would work, namely "I Who Have Nothing", which skyrocketed her to legitimate contender status many weeks ago. I underscore the word many here because that was the last time she did that convincingly, but whatever. She blasted it out the park, because she knows an easy touchdown when she see it. My *only* wish was that she had not gone handheld with the mic this time around. If you remember, when she sang it the first time, she did what always works best for her: singing a big ballad, with arms at sides, and mic stand right in front of her. This time, the freedom of the mic got in the way of the intensity of the song, and she moved around to convey emotion instead of sucking us in. And trust me, being sucked in is always more memorable than being sung *at*. But that's so minor even I need to wrap this point up, because it was by far her best of the night, and nothing but a pleasure to hear her highlight her strengths without letting any of her weaknesses poke through.

8. Blake did the hotness, also known as Robin Thicke's "Get You Alone", and actually made it work, in some weird, not-nearly-as-good-as-the-original way. What helps is that most people have no clue how Robin sings the original, and he likely spoke to his man, ChrissyPoo, beforehand, who naturally told him that the more uptempo and loud one's song, the better. I finally agreed with Rando - his second selection was stronger - but this one gave him an opportunity to move more, to entertain more, and to rely less on people comparing his warbly vocals to the original. I understood it, and I wasn't perusing butcher knives in response, so that's probably a good thing. If the youngins in the audience crave hip over anything else, he's in the driver's seat, and if you've ever listened to pop radio these days, the odds are most definitely, most sadly, in his favor.

9. Melinda told us how much of a W-O-M-A-N she still is, but managed to take one of her strongest performances to a whole new level of hot in heeyah. The addition of the backup singers was ICE COLD -- and that's a GOOD THING -- her menswear selection was on and poppin', and for the first time ALL season, someone got up there and sang like they were already headlining their own concert. No gimmicks, no trying this time, this was The Doo and her backups singing to you like you'd get it if you paid for it. And it'd be well worth it. An amazingly polished, powerful, and professional finish for the only one left who deserves all the confetti.

So? Who will it be? Several people are saying very different things as far as results go, mainly because they're all pretty much on par depending on who you think may be voting. But since I'm feeling nice again, I'll give you the safe bet, and the other bet. You do with it what you will.

SAFE BETTING SWAMI SAYS:
Going, going, gone: Blake Lewis
Coulda: Jordin Sparks

OTHER BETTING SWAMI SAYS:
Going, going, gone: Jordin Sparks
Coulda: Blake Lewis

Who's side am I on? Given that Blake has been in the bottom 2 before, while neither lady ever has, I'll stick to safe. But catch me in the wrong lighting, and I may very well be on the other side of things. Only a few hours from now will tell!!!

Stayin' Alive

Well, being the ever-prepared woman that I am, you can guess what I did when I first got word that Lakisha was due to sing "Stayin' Alive" on last night's show. And by the way, if you're ever in the market for cheap used televisions, Craigslist is most definitely the way to go. I felt buying a backup would be the only responsible thing to do, given the unlikelihood that I wouldn't search and destroy my latest television in disappointment -- not with the producers this time, but with my big-boned beloved herself. Hearing it in my head, I could see no other way for this selection to go other than toilet-ward -- it reminisces of Latin-inspired night, wherein such band-heavy classics leave little to no room to shine as a vocalist. Barry Gibbs has made millions off of just that kind of finagling, but Kiki? She needs ROOM, no? A lotta room, yes? Well, it turns out I have more than I expected to say about that performance, and what it reflected about the remaining contestants as a whole, despite what SPR and the ganja Blake gives them to smoke would have you believe.

Barry's teeth were usually getting in the way of whatever I was supposed to hear him say, but when I wasn't psychotically stopping the blood flow in my fingers with floss, I did hear a few gems. And by gems I mean shitstorms of useless pandering that helped no one and insulted many. Obviously the sequin-studded romantic getaway with Jordin he dreamt up left a mark, because from what I can tell, the teeth were talking about her being the greatest thing in music since, oh, I dunno, 7:59pm last night. Too bad she lived up to so little of what Gibb said that it made her look more amateur than ever before, and almost gave me the gall stones Blake gives me when I think about what it would mean for him to win American Idol. Weirdly enough, I felt less contempt than I usually would for that much overblown hype, but it's clear as to why. No one, not even Useless Abdul herself, was buying that Gibb-erish (hehe), with the exception of her doting rich-from-football parents. Unlike Blake, who can amass incomprehensible support from not only SPR but a good portion of the country through dance-heavy and vocally-light romps, Jordin isn't anywhere near the predecessors of her past, far away from them as ever last night. But more on that later. The point is, I realized something very unsettling about Idol last night; something that I have never felt in any prior season.

Whoever wins this season is the least inspiring Idol to date. Kiki and DooAlot included. The whole of last night, I kept waiting for someone to blow it out the park. To make me cry like Elliott, Fantasia, and George Huff did virtually every week. To make me jump up and down and clap like a seal the way Taylor did whenever he got his Doobie Borthers on. To make me say, "I don't like the chick that much, but that shit was hot" as Kat McPhee did while sitting on the floor. Or, even to make me appreciate rockers as much as I appreciate the more technically challenging vocal stylings of their counterparts, a la Bo and Chris Daughtry. But this year? There's nothing more than "Will they come to play tonight, or won't they"? And that kind of uncertainty is not what you expect from someone we are going to crown as the best, most commercially appealing singer in America two weeks from now. You want life-changing power, you want brilliance, and at the very least, you want what Carrie and Kelly bring -- consistency with a cute face. (Okay, okay, I know calling Kelly cute is really the overstatement of the year, but I'm feeling generous so just go with it would ya). This year? The only deserving winner (as I've said before) is the most consistent, but where's the endearment? Where are the tears? It's like watching Gladys Knight compete on American Idol; she's not surprised, we're not suprised, and if there's no hope for the unexpected, there's no hope for inspiration. It's a tough sell no matter how this year slices the final four, but my heart is aching for something more - and I'm not going to get it until this May has long past.

That said, we have 8 gigs to complain about. So here's the sauce:

1. Melinda did only somewhat better than her worst performance to date, which, surprise surprise, took place on Latin-themed aka Jennifer-Lopez-Is-Not-Very-Talented night. It didn't do much of anything really -- it wasn't awful because she's incapable of awful, and it wasn't great...it was just there. She lost track of tempo in a few spots, which certainly didn't help, but even she looked bored to tears. And although she's the best of the bunch, that wasn't title-worthy by any stretch. I would have more to say about it if I cared, but I stopped investing in whatever was going on about 2.5 seconds in. Simon summed it up. Where were all the slapped mamas? Nowhere to be found with that snoozefest.

2. Then Blake cooked up something so rancid and spine-breaking, I've already booked my full-body sugar scrub with the spa nearby to cleanse myself of that event. I mean I love gambling as much as the next dude, but is it even humanly possible to go from such a winning hand to this disgrace in the span of seven days? Now don't get me wrong - his hand has never once looked "winning" to me as much as fugly and mangled, but there have at least been times (like last week) where I could say, "Aight, a lot of poorly educated people loved freak shows at one time, so this isn't a far cry from that tree". But this time? THIS?? There's no word in any language that could encompass the horror of that effort. Not one aspect of it was enjoyable, and the "beatboxing" segment made me wish I were catching a cat's hairball before it hit the ground over that. It was so bad, I almost wanted Chris Sligh back. I repeat: IT WAS SO MINDBOGGLINGLY BAD, I WANTED THE VAMPIRE KING OF TRANSYLHEINOUS BACK ON MY SCREEN. After the shower I took following the performance, I thought to myself, "Well, at least they have 2 songs". Luckily for me, that didn't matter in Skaterboy's undeserved case.

3. Now, as I've already mentioned, I was highly disturbed by Kiki's song choice this time around. And I would have put a lot of money on it that her plane was going to crash and burn worse than we've seen in awhile. But believe me when I say that she surprised the hell outta me, despite what SPR had to say about it. Sure, it wasn't her best, and it surely wasn't outstanding by any stretch, but amazingly enough, it actually came across as a "performance", with vocals actually doing something of interest, which was so much more than I expected. What's more, Keeks gave it an R&B flava, putting the right runs in the right places to give it some strange sort of soul. Even more still, she sold it in presence, ably conveying her seriousness about stayin' alive in this damned contest without losing control of her manuevering throughout. She didn't overdo it when it seemed to be heading that way, and she managed to make room where I believed there to be none. In short, she interior designed the hell outta that puppy and I was impressed. No neck hairs were standing, sure, but my head bopped in a few places, and I saw where she was taking it. Why SPR were so hard on her is a little beyond me -- my only guess is that it sounded stranger in the room than it did through the TV speakers. Either that, or Simon still hasn't found a way to get her lip gloss off his mouth from last week and got pissy about it.

4. So, naturally, the only conclusion to draw at this point in the show was that Jordin was going to blow everyone else's awfulness out of the galaxy and claim her place on the throne 2 weeks early. I mean, given what Barry had to say about it being the best version he's ever heard, there's no other way it'd go down, right? Wrong again! True, it was the best performance at that point, but it reeked of amateurism and a bad case of the shakes. And all I was left thinking (and texting to my friend) was: "THAT'S my American Idol? Yawn." Jordin Sparks? That's all we could muster this year, y'all? Well, that's the worst news I'm hearing if it proves to be true. 'Cuz what you're basically telling me is that if you're the cutest one of a not-so-hot bunch, you'll be the last one standing as long as you have enough talent on your good days to pull it off? Dude, she's not even close to as polished and believable as Kat McPhee, and I wasn't even rooting for that chick for the same exact reasons. Justice was served last year in that the Pheever didn't win, but if Sparks is the best we have to look forward to from January through May, then I just about quit. There's too much ridiculous talent out there to have it wasted on streaky, whether it's in Blake's hair or coming out of Jordin's mouth. Melinda is our only hope for SOME kind of wholesome ending to this saga, and Jordin's consistent ball-dropping last night only etched that truth in stone. Moving way the hell on, 'cuz picturing her bizarro rendevous with Barry G is making me queasy.

5.Then everyone got a second chance at redemption. Ever the perfectionist, Melinda came back fighting, but were it not for her 2nd half, she'd be on the fence tonight as well. The first half wasn't just lackluster, it was totally out of sync with whatever the band was trying to deal her. Thankfully, she switched gears midway and took it to happytown. Still, a disappointing go for Neckless, and I'm not sure why. I think losing Phil really hit her in a place (you all saw how she broke all the way down when Alien set sail for brighther nebulae), and she's still recovering. Aww, Doo's got da blues. Well, she had better get over it and quick, lest heartbreak steal her thunder.

6. While we're on the topic, I might as well point out here that Blake has obviously lost his mojo since losing his boyfriend, I mean, best friend Chris Richardson last week. I know long distance relationships can be hell, so my heart goes out to the happy couple. But really Blake, your man told you he'd be back in your arms come tour time, so what's the fuss? You can't just crumble under the lights as soon as your butt-buddy (ohhhh yeeeeahhhh) heads back to Brokeback. Usually I'd tell someone to get it together, but I quite enjoy watching him suck this royally. The song appealed to absolutely no organism in the universe, primarily because no one knows it, and as the cherry on top, he sang it out of key. Yay! Way to be, Blake! Now, Paula held up her end of the bargain they've devised and made sure to point out that although she's never heard the song, he stayed on pitch. Funny how one can't know that unless they have either heard the song, or have functioning ears. And since she's never had the latter, and admitted to never experiencing the former, I'm sure her comments were spot-on. Like Blake's pitch.

7. Kiki did her thing for most of it, enough so that the croak at the end didn't matter. In fact, it was human, which is more than Robot DooLittle can muster most of the time. But she remained middle-of-the-road again... not offending anyone, but not changing any lives either. As Simon said, she is vulnerable tonight, but watching her go home before Blake will be a continuation of the Heist of the Millenium, in that he didn't even belong in the top 32 after last night's debacle. And when compared to Jordin in vocal polish, most of the time that's not even worth debating either. But, the votes will have it - and so will the AI producers who likely wouldn't deign to have 3 black female singers in the finale. If anyone would be okay with it, it'd be FOX, but still.

8. Then, riding off the second most unfathomable compliment of the night, Jordin came in to close the show and once again try to secure first place in this thing. Guess no one felt like a winner last night, because it was worse than her first and then some. The dress made me feel like I accidentally put on my Beauty & The Beast DVD by accident, and the out-of-pitch, cirque de soleil of singing made me want to find Barbara and just hug her and hug her more so that she'd get through the night. Who in hell thought it a good idea to put Jordin on par with Babs? Who in hell thinks this overblown garbage is enough already? Who in hell is the only person who has ever done Streisand justice on this show? Well, the answer to the first question is DEFINITELY not this guy, but it is to the second - except that I'm not in hell. And neither is Fantasia, but she's the answer to the third in case you're curious. Can we just go back and watch Ms. Barrino's rendition of "Summertime" on repeat instead of this muck? As McPhee would say, I'm SO over it.

Well, now that we've sat through 8 generally underwhelming attempts at top honors, someone's gotta go. It goes without saying who it should be, but does Blake's under-the-table agreement spread to more than just SPR? Time will tell, y'all, time will always tell.

Shoulda: Blake Lewis
Coulda: Lakisha Jones
Wild Card: Jordin Sparks

Had a Nice Day!

Good thing TV's are cheap. Cuz I don't know how else I would have found a new one to replace the one I bashed in after Seacrest informed me that no one was going home last week. And to top it all off, we'd get to say see ya to not one, but TWO contestants this time around. "WHY!?!?!", we wailed in endless pain and horror. "Because it's a charity night!" Ryan exclaims, lucky his pink ass is 3,000 miles away from my ability to knock out every one of his front teeth. Never in my life have I been outraged by this show, and the reason being that American Idol is never toyed with by the hands of its producers. Not at least when it comes to results, right? RIGHT?!?! So can someone please tell me why in GOD'S NAME they thought it would be a good idea to make people sit through 2 hours of (good) charity relief only to be ROBBED of the very results those 70+ million votes crafted???? I guess it should come as no surprise that the second the producers did decide to take a swing at bat, they came up with a whiff so great it cooled the entire country by 3 degrees. Not to mention the barrage of incensed text messages I received by virtue of the injustice. HOW COULD THEY?????! HOW?! After failing to deliver Bono in any valid form????? After telling us that Blake was still safe??? They didn't throw us one single bone, and thought their form of "charity" was going to be appreciated. Well, that's 2+ hours of my life that I'd graciously take back if I had the chance, not because I didn't cry during every starving baby segment - cuz I did, and not because I wouldn't have donated money - cuz I did, but because I sat there thinking that all that hullabaloo would be worth the real reason we're here: to see someone get the goddamn boot when their week calls. Ugh. Just ugh. And as if all that's not enough to make me buy 2 more TV's just in case, they have the audacity to shorthand the exits of both those contestants who leave us tonight. Keep your eyes peeled, people -- RyRy Tartar is going to hit several restaurants in the continental US very soon. If you order it, the meal's on me.

After last week's appalling display of "shock value", we got to see everyone try their hand again at something musical, and Blake was there too. At least Bon Jovi's still the ageless wonder, providing some hot songs to match. Virtually everyone shined with a few monstrous-looking exceptions, but we're now forced to believe that AI hasn't doctored last week's numbers. Which they have, of course. But that's showbiz, baby, so we'll roll with it.

1. Phil gets to be called Phil instead of Alien this week because he kicked veritable ass and took names in the process. That was by far the best performance he's had to date. Only his version of "I'll Be Watching You" came close to that kind of verve, but this time around, he was impeccable and real from start to finish. Now, it's too bad he told us that the reason he was that impeccable was because that's the only song he's been singing since birth, but it still smelled of sweet roses and baby powder. So much so that I even forgot how scary-looking he is for those 3 minutes. So much so that I almost hired a girl in the front row to subtly strangle Simon for those completely nonsensical, inaccurate, snobby, inappropriate and classless remarks he made in response to it. Maybe he was actually listening to his own audition on The Simpsons instead, but whatever the hell Simon was reviewing had nothing to do with Baldy's effort. 'Cuz the polished dome was so on point last night I could even hear Captain Kirk yelling "engage" in spots.

2. Then came everyone's golden child, and by everyone I mean everyone except for me apparently. Oh, and my coworker. And my coworker's mom. The 3 of us are the only people not convulsing from love on the Sparks train. And boy am I glad I didn't buy season tickets to that show, because last night's horror was the worst I've seen on American Idol since Sanjaya rocked the same hairdo. EVERYTHING, from top to bottom, start to stop, was horrendous, out of place, manic, out of whack, painful, and unnecessary. She looked like the Bride of Frankenstein's mixed cousin, she sang like she was getting stung by wasps throughout, and she looked so uncomfortable I almost changed the channel. And it was a DVR recording, so to change the channel would have required me to press "Exit", then "Done", then "Do you want to keep the recording or delete it?", then "No, Don't Delete", then channel 530 to see if any re-runs of The Tudors were playing because Sunday night's was so good I almost wet myself. But you losers who don't respect the power of Rhys Meyers wouldn't care about that, so I digress. The point is, my index finger almost had to jump through a lot of hoops to get away from the debacle named Jordin. Now, while I appreciate her admission that it went something all funky, apparently she thinks that laughing about it would be endearing. Unfortunately, I realized at that point that Jordin's ego is growing, because only people who are wholeheartedly convinced they're going to win a competition laugh like that after failing so miserably. I'd brush up on the "How to Make America Love the Streaky Within You" handbook, because I'm pretty damn sure thinking you're the shit when you're in fact quite capable of shitty is not the best way to go.

3. And then the Comeback Queen did the unthinkable. With all the reviews of her more recent efforts (including mine), which found about 1,000 different ways to say "She's Outta Heeah!" in 6 different languages, who would have thought my darling Kiki would have brought the fire like she did last night? It was as moving as any performance she's done, she sold it, milked it for all it was worth, and got to makeout with Simon as a reward. Pretty good for a night's work if you ask me. Seriously though. Maybe it was seeing JonBon's shining, lion-like face that lifted her to old and sorely missed heights, but whatever it was, it was WORKIN'. And all the haters can kindly step off my woman, thank you. Your services will not be needed this time around. She stepped up the personality game by MILES, she was charming, she even smiled several times, and then spanked that puppy outta the ballpark. Simon can try to steal her away with one smooch but we all know who's got the goods. In the gender-appropriate spirit of MokenStef -- who's one hit wonder doubles as the greatest 90's R&B anthem of all time -- I'd like to say only this to Cowell: "She's mine. She's mine. You may'a had her once but I got her all the time." I was so proud I almost forgot how tall the hairs on my arms stood up when she sang, and her pause before the grand finale was so pregnant with confidence and power that she gave everyone listening a lesson in how important silence is to great music as much as sound. She deserves ONLY to stay on in this competition, but if she goes it will be with swing in her slim side, because Kiki knows she's a badass bitch and now you know it too. Mwah.

4. Blake got up there and did exactly what he needs to do to pull off the greatest musical heist since the creation of Fergie. He took the risk and it paid off, but as Simon said, there will be a lot of people who will at least ask "Hey? Isn't this show about singing?". The answer to that is yes, and the answer to whether I still think Blake needs to die yesterday is also yes, but a performance like that at least makes me understand why he has some fans. Those fans are not me, in that I don't watch American Beatboxer, but I'm sure if I did, I'd be mildly entertained. I commend him for his bravery, and for his new hair color, but shoot me for wanting an actually great s-i-n-g-e-r to win a great s-i-n-g-i-n-g competition. And whatever he was trying to sell me out of the left inside pocket of his jacket wasn't workin'. I'm not sure why it took him 3 times to figure that out, but I could have at least been respectful enough to look him in the eye before walking past him. I mean, the homeless are human too y'know. Anyhoo, Skaterboy bothers me to no end and really belongs in "America's Got Talent" if anything, but at least he brought back memories of my first Barnum & Bailey show.

5. ChrissyPoo was brave in that other way that usually adds up to bad, like the way David Blaine was brave for deciding to practically kill himself in front of millions by not holding his breath long enough under water. That's the type of bravery where everyone goes "Oh wow. That was brave of him, y'know, to embarrass himself like that with such commitment." Because not only does he know he doesn't belong in the pack anymore, he even decided to go out by singing a song that Daughtry manhandled just last season. Chris Daughtry is the male counterpart to Fantasia in this scenario, wherein no man should be singing it if Big Daddy already touched it. The fact that Chris Not-Daughtry picked it was almost his way of asking for euthanasia, because there's no other way someone in his position with his limitations would choose to do it thinking it'd pay off. He sang it rather well and showed he's got chops, but he also looked like he was trying so hard to stay afloat that I'm pretty certain whatever it feels like to be in the first half of the 25th mile in a marathon would feel a lot better by comparison. He's hot, but he's most certainly wanted dead as far as remaining contestants go after that effort. All good though, despite it being only our second date, the RyRy Tartar's on me, remember?

6. The Doo closed the show, which seemed weird because I feel like she's closed to show a whole damn lot lately. But why not -- she's the bomb and she knows it and her lying about not knowing how to sing rock wasn't going to cover that up. I loved the song itself, and she sure as hell had whatever Tina Turner had for breakfast because if I closed my eyes I couldn't hear the difference most of the time. Of course, then I'd open them and not break into a nervous sweat like Tina's legs make me do on command, so I'm definitely sure it was The Doo on stage. I love her, and appreciate that unlike everyone else she refuses to lower the musical bar at any point, but is her lack of surprise gonna get in her way? For the good of music I sure as hell hope not, but let's not forget who bid us adieu on the show last night. Ha, as if Satan and Laura even know where Africa is on the map. But, if I've learned anything about American history it's that if the Bushes can exist the way they do in our lifetime, The Doo most certainly can get the boot by the brainless just the same. Not sayin' now, but I had to put it out there.

K, so assuming the producers don't act like ungrateful ho's again, we're gonna see 4 buttcheeks get a pat tonight. I'm just hoping my Kleenex box isn't involved, because there's only one way this should go tonight. If only. Here we go!

Shoulda: Chris Richardson & Phil Stacey
Shcoulda: Chris Richardson & Phil Stacey
Wild Card: Phil Stacey & Lakisha Jones