The first leg of the show recapped the many successes of American Idol. The rules have changed this year with the age limit being raised to 28 years old, meaning that people who likely have families and steady jobs will have to face the consequences of being publicly shamed.

The judges remain the same: the Callous Cowel, cyborg-reject Abdul, and the new and improved ultra-sleek, muy-femenino Randay. Another change this season will be the addition of a guest judge during the audition process. This week, we have the pleasure of watching Sugar Ray’s Mark McGrath opine on the future of some young hopefuls. Because if anyone knows about lucky bastards who don’t deserve even a penny of their million dollar fortune, it’s him. Here’s looking forward to the day Smash Mouth rejects some 16 year old no talent in a mini-skirt while getting blown by a toothless 98-year-old corpse, i.e. “groupie”.

On to the auditions. The highlights, and more often the case, the lowlights.

In walks a bald man who’s a youth director at his local church. I know where this is going. He smiles, talks about his kids, is one of 9 million people to sing “Isn’t She Lovely” halfway decently, and after our requisite “Dudes”, “Dawgs” and “Duhs” (thanks Paula), he makes it through to Hollywood.

A girl with a bosom so big it nearly came out of the television screen and knocked me unconscious sings “YMCA”, and dear God, she’s making the letters with her arms, allowing her triple-G’s to bounce in an almost hypnotic fashion.

Coming up next, we have a highlight of a lowlight. Jesse Grazela is a self-proclaimed “entertainer”, and now that I take a better look at him, I’m pretty sure he served me my smoked ham hock at Medieval Times in Peoria, Illinois. The editors of this segment make it very difficult to tell whether he’s going to be good or terrible. (loud coughing: “It’s the latter”) He begins belting out “You Raise Me Up”, his voice shaking, his hand slowly raising to his side like a Spanish Pavarotti at La Scala. His voice trembles all over the place, but alas, he stops singing after the very first line. He’s forgotten the words. Has this man never been to the movies? They must play this song 400 times before the movie begins! How can he forget the words! And you would think he could’ve made them up! “You raise me up, so I can grab a bottle. From the cabinet, where I keep all my food!” He starts over, but brain farts once again, and begins slowly applauding himself for dramatic effect (good thinking). The judges send him outside to ask his friends what the words are. At first I thought that maybe this guy was just yanking our chains to make it onto the show, but upon further inspection, I think he’s actually autistic. His friends help out, he re-enters, splits some ears, and begins HI-sterically crying. Finally his smarts kick in, and he just walks out of the room without even waiting for Simon’s opinion. Television at its finest!

Next comes Anwar Robinson, Lenny Kravitz’s slightly less-gay brother. Long dreads, a crocheted hat I’m pretty sure was ripped off from one of my grandmother’s plants, he’s adorable and has a winning face. The editors make his success a no-brainer, following him to the seventh grade music class that he teaches to see the master at work. Sure enough, he belts out Stevie Wonder, and by the end, I eagerly sit by the phone and wait for his call, because I think I’m in lurve. Although something tells me Nicole Kidman’s got dibs on this one.

Oh lord. Heavy sigh. Why do heavy people put themselves in harm’s way? This time round, it’s Melissa Considine, a girl dressed up in basically every piece of drek H&M has on sale right now, who explains that it looks like she has “a lot of money, but you don’t have to to look good.” The camera slowly pans back and the poor thing, she just looks awful. Shame too, cause she’s a pretty girl, and seems reasonable sane.

After the judges cackle about her choice of clothing, she begins singing “How Do I Live Without You”, with a voice reminiscent of an Olsen Twin getting reamed by a dolphin on his death bed. Needless to spray, she doesn’t make it through.

Derreck Braxton has talent in his family. You see, his “cousin is Tony Braxton”, to which I say “Who isn’t a cousin of Tony Braxton?” Derreck’s your classic uppity, adorable gay guy, with one minor difference: he’s completely insane. He can’t say two words without laughing to himself and saying “Haha—ok? Ok? Ha HA!”

Posted by on January 19, 2005 4:33 PM