…just getting into the show as I was feeding the boy*, but away we go:
Kelly Clarkson doing what, I guess, is a new song called “Never Again.” Let it be never again that she wears that dress; it did her no favors, and she’s capable of being quite attractive I think.
Although, by comparison, Margaret Fowler makes Kelly look like a goddess, floating on clouds of lavender butterflies, bathed in the warm light of wee Baby Jesus and maybe even Zeus.
Up next, the six male finalists, and the lameness of this rivals that auditory asscrap “This is My Now” from last night’s competition. And outcomes Smokey Robinson to show them up. If only ABC were still around making hits, they could do “When Sanjaya Sings (Or Not).”
Blake Lewis and Doug E. Fresh? Much better than the previous song, and the crowd eats it up; and Fresh seems genuinely impressed and pleased. I have a feeling that win or lose, we’re going to hear the name “Blake Lewis” again, especially if your name happens to be Blake Lewis. Argh, the pressure, so much to live up to!
Time for the top six girls (eight if you count Haley’s chest) to come out and provide us with our Daily RDA of cheese. Joining them on stage is Gladys Knight who doesn’t look anywhere near 118 years old. Amazing stuff.
I think what we really need is a two-hour Haley Scarnato retrospective, with all the audio removed. Awww, yeah – and maybe she could wear a TRON suit.
Tony Bennett takes the stage, and a nation of teenage American Idol viewers go to get a soda, maybe some chips and dip, but not too spicy, because they don’t want to be ripping it in class tomorrow, you know. Well, that one guy, Garret Jones, probably would think it’s funny, but not when you have to sit next to him. Darn ol’ Garret.
Finalist Trivia: Blake Lewis’ parents are from South Carolina, Nebraska, and Borneo.
Wow, it’s like miniature versions of Steve Buscemi and John Candy (well, not so miniature in that case) accepting an award, except for the glaring lack of talent.
Melinda Doolittle performs with the Winans, and we should probably just declare her the winner and end the show right here.
Is Carrie Underwood wearing long pants under that see-through dress? Wait, nevermind, new angle and it’s jeans with some sort of bizarre, translucent cape-like thing. How…unsexy.
Now, a TRON suit… hubba!
Clive Davis comes out to plug Chris Daughtry, letting us know that his album has sold some 2.5 million copies. Chris Daughtry’s income from the sales? A tall latte and some spare change.
Wow, these African kids sure do have funny accents. They’re so thick I can’t understand a word they’re saying.
Sanjaya is the fifth Beatle. The one that sadly survived birth.
His sister is kind of hot though.
Please tell me that isn’t really Joe Perry playing guitar. I think it is. Oh lord, is he off the wagon and supporting a huge booze/crack habit? What else could explain this?
I remember when Green Day kind of rocked. And since it was 1991 or so, back in my college partying days, I’m surprised I remember it. Apparently Billy Joe fancies himself the Robert Smith of the 2000s, what with the hair and the stance.
Taylor Hicks is back. I preferred him with a sloppy mop of hair.
Finalist Trivia: When Jordin Sparks needs a break from the stress of American Idol, she indulges in hobbies such as pleasuring herself to pictures of Ruben Studdard. I could, of course, be making this up. Or, maybe she’s into philately, with a special focus on the postage of small island nations.
Bette Midler. Hmmm. Time for a beer. Wait, didn’t she used to be able to sing? That sounded pretty rough in spots.
Hey, awesome, a “Simpsons” movie coming this summer. Somebody put me in the Wayback Machine and send me to 1993 so it will be funny.
See, told you Kelly Clarkson can be attractive. I mean, sure, she’s no Sanjaya…
Followed by Taylor Hicks, followed by Carrie Underwood’s delightful gams.
…and more… hmmm, lots of Beatles songs, and McCartney’s entire catalog just came out on iTunes this week. Will Paul McCartney be making an appearance?
If so, that’d be cool.
If not, that’d be cooler.
And the winner is…
…who will it be?
…I’m giddy and nervous and near to wetting myself.
…and Paula refuses to have an opinion, as usual.
…and you’re both winners, even though only one of you is.
…and no surprise, it’s Jordin, although I think from a longevity in the music industry stance, Blake has a much brighter future.
Congrats to both, as I’m sure your incomes will blow mine away in no time at all.
And now they’re making her sing that horrendous songwriting monstrosity “This is My Now” one more time, because punishing us twice last night wasn’t enough for these sadists. Evil, pure, pure evil. A curse upon their houses!
If nothing else, Blake can sit back, relax, smile, and be glad he doesn’t have to sing this crap again (um, until the tour).
* Which is not a euphemism for anything naughty, although it probably should be.