American Idol: Whore-Ass For Hollywood!

Welcome everyone! It’s me, J-Mo, taking a short break from the slutty skanky buysexual Ikki Twins over on MTV to bring you my take on one of the most astonishing television shows of the millenium… the FOX juggernaut that is… American Idol…

…where the slutty skanks are apparently taking over as well…

Yes, it is hard to believe that this Star-Search-On-Steroids is now in it’s eighth season, and I would be remiss if I did not admit to you my absolute crazy fandom of this show (but not for the reasons you might think) and when Flipit offered up the chance to recap an audition show I promised him multiple sexual favors if he would let me tackle my hometown episode here in beautiful sunny Phoenix, Arizona. He turned me down on the bee-jay, but let me recap it anyhow, so let’s get ready to wallow in mediocrity after the jump, a’ight dawg?…

Let me start out by saying that when I was a much younger gayboy I had my own dreams of becoming a singer/dancer/actor… I watched Fame and Star Search obsessively and honed my talents carefully, learning music theory, taking vocal training and dance technique, eventually becoming a songwriter in my own right and singing was pretty much what I wanted to do with my life… at least until I discovered Benson & Hedges Deluxe Ultra Lights (Menthol!) and trashed my voice… and also realized that singing pays for shit unless your dad is Jamie Spears or Joe Simpson.

Anyhow, the point I’m trying to make is that I actually do have some knowledge of what I’m talking about when it comes to music and singing, and at first I was absolutely enchanted by this show. I can still remember the BF and I excitedly watching the finale of the first season and seeing Kelly Clarkson win over Chia-Head Justin Guarini, and feeling like we were a part of helping give new and undiscovered talent a chance to brightly shine…

…before seeing it crash and burn…

Long about Season 5, when Taylor Hicks “won” (worst Idol ever!) I began to find myself slipping over to The Dark Side and becoming a giant fan of VoteForTheWorst, which, in the spirit of TVGasm.com, takes great pride in poking snarky holes in the self-important and narcissistic machine that American Idol has become. Yes, I was partially responsible for the phenomenon that was The Papaya…. Sanjaya.

Speaking of pompous and overinflated, here’s how tonight’s premiere kicks off…

…and if it’s a record executive’s dick, you better be ready to blow…

Gee, has anybody ever heard David Foster sing? Me neither. Anyhow, because this is a two-hour show, we start off with a lovely video time-waster time-capsule (set to “What A Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong) revisiting the best moments of Seasons 1 thru 7… I won’t list them all, but some of my favorites include Ryan Seacrest getting gangbanged by Ruben Studdard and his equally hefty brother… dumbass Kellie Pickler (before she got her boob-job and learned that the “L” in “salmon” was silent)… the even gayer lookalike of Clay Aiken getting cruised by the Queen Herself…

…they totally hooked up…

…crying girl and the PonyHawked One (*mwah* to you, Sanjaya, you go girl!)… and all the Idols from Kelly Clarkson to David Cook. This… is American Idol! ♪Dee-ro-ee-ro-ee-ro-ee-ro-ee-ro♪ Eight fucking seasons and they can’t have new theme music? The economy sure is in the toilet.

In voiceover, Ryan Closet-Casecrest reminisces that last year on May 21st, 2008 fifty-five million Americans held their breath to find out if Gaspy Lip-Licker Archuleta or Combover Cook was going to win… (actually, I think most of us were holding our breaths to see if we would still be able to afford food with gas at $5-a-gallon) and we were treated to that hysterical home video of the silly tweentards screeching and crying over Mormonboy’s loss…

…why the rest of the world wants to destroy America…

David Cook says it’s changed his life completely (but he apparently still can’t afford Rogaineâ„¢). Cut to roughly 47,983,256 people insisting to the camera that they are the next American Idol. Too bad 47,983,255 of them are dead wrong. Welcome to Season 8.

Ahhh, here’s Ryan Queencrest standing in front of the Grand Canyon and tantalizing us with the thought that he might take one mincing step too many and fall in. Oh, you teaser, Ry! Master of the obvious, he mentions that Phoenix is really hot (while they helpfully play Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Summer In The City” in case you don’t understand what “106 degrees” means) and sure enough, there is a sound-bite from an actual co-worker of mine echoing that sentiment…

…funny, she never looks that happy when she’s complaining at work…

The first words out of Randy “I Was In Journey” Jackson’s mouth are “Are we closer to the sun than any other state or city?” Ha ha, Randy, you sure look like you’ve been closer to the BK drive-thru lately. I thought he had weight-loss surgery? Well, no surgery can stand in the way of the right Big Mac Value Meal.

Choosing her words carefully (as always) through an oxycodone-and-vodka-haze, Paula Abdul slowly struggles to walk and talk at the same time as she slurs, “This’ss the home… of Jordin Sparks!” Yay, Paula! You got it right! She looks like she expects to be rewarded with a drink treat or something.

And now we are introduced to the newest judge (described as a “superstar hitmaker”) Kara DioGuardi (pronounced “KER-uh Dee-uh-GWAR-dee”) and Ry name-drops how she’s worked with Jewel, Pink, The Pussycat Dolls and the utterly evil Celine Dion. He neglects to mention that she’s also responsible for the rape and murder of pop-music that was “Autobiography”, “Pieces Of Shit Me” and “La La (Acid Reflux Made Me Lip-Synch)” by Ashlee Simpson…

…damn, Paula, *I* wanted to beat her for that!…

Oh well, I guess it’s time to start the slaughter granting of dreams, and the first gay guy up for auditioning is Tuan Nguyen and his Amazing Vietfro. He’s going to sing a song by Michael Jackson and also add “tap-incorporated moves” to it… whereas Michael just adds a “HEE-hee” and a crotch-grab (usually his own) here and there. Also, Tuan is going to put in some “JROTC drill-team dancing” to make his style more “unique and marketable”.

His “drill-team” moves look curiously like “cheer-team” moves, and as Michael’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” plays, he’s rocking out all over the audition holding area, eventually getting so hot and out-of-breath that he’s forced to stop and hungrily suck on a water bottle like it’s a great big…

…well, like something I’ve found thrust in my face a time or two…

Upon meeting the judges he says he wants to be as big as Michael Jackson and Britney Spears combined (his hair already is) and he’s going to accomplish this by singing “The Way You Make Me Feel”. He’s gay-snapping and quickly goes completely out of tune, as Kara makes faces and sings along. Can it, bitch… this ain’t your audition to fuck up, it’s allll Tuan’s…

…awww, he shoulda worn his glowing glitter-socks to the audition…

Randy calls it “entertaining” and compliments him on the ‘Fro, but it’s a ‘No. Kara says “I’ve never seen anything like that… in a not-so-good way…” Sure you have, Kar: AshleeFuckingSimpson! Paula passes, and Simon (and his same-old toilet-bowl brush haircut) sends the crumpled and dejected ‘Froboy on his way as George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” plays. Ahhh, I get it! “…never gonna dance again…” Well, we can only hope.

It’s time to meet dirty-pink haired Tat-Girl, Emily Hughes, who has a lot of slickly produced back-story footage and reeks of Possible Producer Plant (her band Go Betty Go played at Quentin Tarantino’s birthday party last year, which kind of makes me wonder why she’s bothering with Idol at all). She says her mom Patty was a professional singer up until she was about 10, and Patty herself says she pretty much had to choose between being a good mom and pursuing her dream of being a singer… “There was no choice…” she says bitterly, then quickly amends, “Er, it was an easy choice, is what I should say!”…

…”She ruined my life and I hate her for it.”…

Emily herself says she was bad at school, math, friends, sports (and it looks like bad at hygiene and hair-coloring, too) so performing was really the only thing she could do. That and getting a bunch of tattoos so she would “never be forced to sit in an office!” Wow, Em, so not only did you destroy your mother’s career with your incessant childish needs, but you dissed the entire nation of us cubicle-dwellers as well. You’ve got my vote… to go home.

She’s now in front of the judging panel telling them all about her all-girl rock’n'roll band, and decides to sing “Barracuda” by Heart (which I think is hysterical considering it was written about a sleazy record-company executive, and here she’s singing for four of them… okay, well, three sleazies and a boozehound). She’s not terrible, but she certainly lacks Ann Wilson’s steely vocal quality, and she by no means hit all the notes dead-on. However, Simon praises her for the difficulty of the song and says she’s “different” and he likes her. Then again, Simon likes any girl who sings about being “down, down, down on my knees”. Paula calls her “top five”. Of what? Meth dealers? Ahhh, I get it, Paula’s looking to score a bump or two…

Randy wants to know if the band hates that Emily is there auditioning, and she says they don’t know (which is interesting considering that their own blog posted an article mentioning the fact that she auditioned once before… and also makes fun of the show) which brings a collective “Ooooooooh!” from the judging panel. Em says what’s even worse is that if she makes it through, then the band won’t get to go on a European tour they’ve booked, but insists “This is all I have, so, I have to do it!” I bet Go Betty Go is making a voodoo doll of her as we speak…

…”Ehhh, fuck those bitches, I wanna be rich and famous on TV!”…

Simon’s not gonna let her go without getting her to admit that she is turning her back on her bandmates. Em says the way she sleeps at night is thinking about the possibility of going the Daughtry route and becoming a huge poser bringing her band with her… because former lead singers are known for their loyalty to lowly bandmates, right? Just ask Gwen Stefani. Or Axl Rose. Or that giant tool Scott Stapp.

Anyhow, Em says she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, to which Simon replies “Just forget friendship and loyalty…” Awww, they’re playing Heart’s “Alone” as she gets four votes of yes, and she’s through! Yay for selfish bitches! RyGuy voiceovers that Emily may be happy now, but we’ll find out how telling her band to go screw themselves goes come Hollywood Week. I’m betting the band changes their name to Get The Fuck Out Emily…

Hey, it’s time to meet a “rocker” by the name of Randy Madden, who is so excited to be there auditioning that he can’t keep his scrawny chest covered…

…oooooh, love your love-handles, bay-beh…

Randy The Rawker works as a salesman for “a media company” (a.k.a. “phone sales bitch for a cable TV call center”) and describes himself as a “rock star living in a box” while he shows off his air-guitar skillz. Homeless people who live in boxes everywhere are now offended. He says he has never had singing lessons, nor is he in a band (ruh-roh) but insists that because he looks like a rocker, people often stop him and tell him he should be on American Idol. I guess Randy is unable to detect sarcastic speech-patterns.

Well, he may be a charging grizzly bear for getting you to buy a combination HBO/Showtime/Starz/Playboy Premium Package over the phone, but poor Randy doesn’t handle the stress of auditioning well. In fact, he’s so twisted up that he keeps crying. And sobbing. And weeping…

…you would think someone with a Mona Lisa Tattoo would be a little more butch…

He believes this is his moment where he can either shine, or he can go out like a comet and crash to the ground (as “Dust In The Wind” by Kansas plays). I don’t know what he’s so worried about… everybody knows that if you look like a rock star, you automatically sound like one, too!

Kara is astonished that he works for “a corporation?” Yes, Kara, that’s what the rest of us are reduced to when we don’t rake in zillions writing shitty pop songs for the Simpson Sisters, Boobsy and Fugly. Randy Rawker tries out his “rock star in a box” line on them, getting crickets in return, and eventually Simon prods him for what he’s going to sing. He’s decided on “Living On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi. Oh lord. I don’t think even Bon Jovi himself likes to sing that song any more.

Poor Randy, he tries hard, but he’s fudging the words, his tone is wavery with fear, and he’s doing what I like to call Acting The Song (which means that whenever you sing about somebody crying, you use your fingers to draw a tear falling from your eye to show that somebody is, you know, crying) and the judges hate that shit…

…I dunno why he didn’t just cry for real…

Simon stops him and calls it “very wimpy” and says he expected more. Rawkerman takes this to mean he should add some disco-dancing to the song and starts up again. He’s cut off again, and Simon calls him “clichéd” (which is kind of silly considering how clichéd this whole show is). Randy In The Box starts to cry and says he just wants them to give him a chance, failing to grasp that that’s exactly what he’s blowing right now. Simon says Ran-Ran is “coming over as a drama-queen” (well, I guess he’d know from working closely with both Paula Abdrool and RyKrisp) and says our cube-dweller has no star quality, and never will.

Paula tries to salvage some of the tattered shreds of Randy’s self-esteem by saying he should start working with a band and getting experience with hard work and cameraderie (Simon jumps in here with “How do you think ‘Straight Up’ was written?”… LOLz for Simon!) which causes Randy “Not Related To Michael” Jackson to guffaw and makes Paula reeeeally mad. She calls Simon pessimistic and while Kara is blathering on, Paula turns to Simon, sulkily says “I din’t like ‘Straight Up’!” and throws her pen at him. Hmmmm, now that’s interesting. Seems like she sure enjoyed having a 7x platinum album with a number-one hit, though…

…as well as a decent singing voice, too…

Oh, but they’ve forgotten all about Randy The Box’O'Rocks, who is still silently weeping and watching as he gets four no’s (Paula’s giving Simon the finger as she gives hers!). Ryan Semencrest is waiting outside with a sympathetic ear as the RandyMan says now he has “almost no more tears!” I guess he found some more, because he starts blubbing again the second he walks out the door. Still, he believes someone is going to see him on the show and say to themselves “This guy rocks!” Ah well, I guess it’s back to the cubicle for him.

Meanwhile, young 16-year-old J.B. Ahfua (of Utah) is in front of the panel and blasting his way through Ruben Studdard’s “Flying Without Wings”. He’s pretty good, but seems to only have one volume setting (eleven) and he’s stuffing every phrase absolutely chock full of melisma. He also brought his pet caterpillars with him…

…whichever stylist is on tweezer-duty has their work cut out for them…

‘Frobrows or no, he’s still pretty cute and sounds good enough to get four yes votes, so he’s made it! After hugs from his dad and brothers he starts to cry, too (he must have heard the Sad Piano Of Hard-Luck Storiesâ„¢ plinking away on the soundtrack) and when Ryan asks him why it means so much to him, he says this is his chance to change his life and his family’s life, because they’re struggling so hard right now. Don’t feel so bad, J.B., there are two million more people in the same boat with you since this was filmed!

I don’t mean to sound like a cold-hearted snake (girl) but I just don’t care for the whole “my-family-is-poor-so-I-need-to-be-the-American-Idol-or-we’re-all-gonna-be-homeless-and-eating-stale-popcorn-and-government-cheese-in-the-gutter” play for sympathy-votes thing. The only thing worse than this in my book is trotting out recently dead relatives for the same purpose. It reeks of cloying and cheap sentimentality, and after 7 seasons of this show it happens more and more often, and it’s worn way thin. All I’m saying is J.B. better not have rolled down to the auditions in a Hummer.

Well, his winning a gold ticket to Hollywood brightens the mood for just about everyone in the holding area… everybody except for Michael Gurr(l) who gets shrieky stabby violin music to accompany several shots of his creepy constipated look…

…”Leave me alone, I’m trying to poo!”…

He’s super nervous and scared, and says he doesn’t feel good, but he goes in to face the judges anyhow, deciding to sing “Starts With Goodbye” by Carrie Underwood. Ahhh, come on gays, we need to do better! Gurrlfriend is singing almost completely through her nose, combining the nasalness with a weird breathy squeezy tone that sounds like he’s trying to poop out a giant dootie-bubble that just won’t come. Where is Bobby Brown when you need him to dig it out?…

…my ass is hurting just looking at him…

Simon says he couldn’t understand a word of it, Gurrlfriend could have been singing in Bulgarian for all he knew (which is dead wrong, Bulgarian sounds nothing like a Stubborn Turd Language). Randy, Kara and Paula are all struggling not to bust out laughing (Randy’s doing that subtle “holding a piece of paper up in front of his face” thing) and Michael asks if he can come back in 5 minutes. Simon says five years wouldn’t make any difference. True, but ouch…

Paula decides to prolong Gurrlfriend’s humiliation by asking her what other song she was going to sing? *gasp* It was a song by none other than Kara DioGuardi! It better not fucking be “Pieces Of Me” or I’m going to throw my TV on the floor… Well, my TV got lucky, it’s another Carrie Morningwood song, called “Sometimes You Leave” and he sounds exactly the same. Kara looks pleased…

…maybe she has to go poo, too…

Both Randy and Simon dickishly snort “Beautiful!” (looking every bit the pair of rich assholes that they are) as Michael looks even more stricken and unsteadily says “I’m feeling sick right now.” Everybody decides that it’s a no, and Michael lurches his way out of the audition room as Kara and Paula try to say how “sweet” of a guy he is… barely waiting until he’s out of the room before openly gushing amongst themselves how bizarre he is. Michael is so distraught that the paramedics have to be called in! RyGuy makes it sound like he might die, we have to tune in after the break to see if he survives! Sheesh, talk about a bunch of drama-queens…

Of course, Michael’s fine, he just needed a banana to wrap his lips around and he’s all good. If you thought he was bad, we have a dirty stoner guy named Will who is keening “Mad World” by Tears For Fears in a pot-soaked whistle, a bespectacled gay guy named D.J. screaming out “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” by Celine Dion (in a way that is completely different from how Celine herself screams it) and a Gary-Coleman-Meets-Mr-T-looking lesbiana named Shawn sending Dionne Warwick shrieking for a doobie as she dismembers “I Know I’ll Never Love This Way Again”…

…”Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout, fool? I know I sound good…”…

Ahhh, but that can’t compare to Aundré Caraway, a.k.a “X-Ray”, who makes me laugh when he calls the new judge “Carla”! I loves me a Kara-diss any ol’ time! He’s actually playing the guitar quite well, and he’s kind of cute (totally reminds me of a cross between El and Chico DeBarge) but he also seems a tad crazay. He comes hopping in to the room shouting “What’s good in the neighborhood!” and now I just think he’s skipped his Breakfast Meds. Or his dosage needs adjusting.

He’s going to sing a song called “Cactus Baby”, which was (I believe) written in his mind. All I can tell you about it is that the chorus of the song goes “Lawdy-lawdy-lawdy-ee-ee-eh-oh-oh-eh-oo-oh-oo-oh-oh-eh-uh-uh!” Simon looks pissed off and stops him. X-Ray’s response? A great big grin and a hearty “Swinga-della-doooo!” I think I love X-Ray…

…but he shoulda sang “Who’s Johnny?” or “Rhythm Of The Night”…

He gets four decisive no’s and is escorted out by security. Wow, does everybody suck this year? Ah, no, now we’re treated to the story of a sweet young girl named Arianna Afsar who started her own organization called “Adopt-A-Grandfriend” which brings teens and old people together at a nursing home once a month so the teens can perform for them. Awww, how nice of her! Although, I’d be even more impressed if it was once a week, but maybe she has a low tolerance for wrinkles and urine-scented plastic chairs.

Anyhow, Arianna really likes it because she’s not judged by the old people, “they’re really appreciative of everything I do, even if I mess up or I crack!”…

…she even performs small magic tricks for them, like “blurry hands”…

I don’t wanna burst her bubble and point out that many of the ladies in her captive audience are probably stone deaf, and most of the old men are probably staring at her nubile young body. Kidding! I actually admire her spunk, and that reminds me that I have my own program that brings me together with senior citizens, it’s called “Helping Handjobs”. Once a week I grab a big bottle of Lubriderm and visit several care facilities in my area to give out squeezytuggles to the male residents. And I have carpal tunnel syndrome. Yeah, I’m a giver.

Anyhow, Simon gets in a lame dig when he says it’s great that if Paula showed up on her own, Arianna would be her friend. Ba-dum-bump. Get it? Paula’s old. *chirp* *chirp* *chirp* Well, Arianna’s singing “Put Your Records On” by Corinne Bailey Rae, and she’s good enough to get four resounding yes’s! Wow, three whole people who got through! I guess nine other people got their golden tickets on Day One as well.

Day Two brings a rehash of all the men who have had super-high-pitched dogwhistle voices, but on the other end of the spectrum is Elijah Scarlett, whose voice is so low and rumbling that my kitties fled from the room. RyGuy is frightened, too, telling Elijah “If I heard you on the phone I would have thought you were six-nine!” (At first I thought Ryan was saying he sounded old, or was making some kind of dirty 69 reference, but then I realized he was referring to height)…

…”Yo, I ain’t that way, man!”…

Of course, Elijah’s going to sing “My First, My Last, My Everything” by Barry White. Unfortunately, having a deep voice is the only thing he has in common with the dearly departed Mr. White, because he’s totally tone-deaf, and possibly a little slow. Simon of course has to make hateful tv ratings fun of him for that, and after a couple of pointedly sarcastic questions about whether or not he’s aware of what the show is actually about, Elijah’s smile fades and he realizes he can’t sing. Simon goes further by comparing it to somthing out of a horror movie, while Paula helpfully (if stupidly) suggests that Elijah try to get voice-over work “for, like, movies that have monsters in them…” Gee, Paula, I didn’t realize you had a film in the works! Is it “Bratz 2″?

Hey, we haven’t met the Annoyingly Perky Girl Who’s Really A Psycho Hagâ„¢ yet! Her name is Lea Marie, she’s 16 and she’s from Connecticut (woo-hoo!)…

…and you better like it or she’ll cut a bitch…

Lea says she’s a cross between Hilary Duff and Madonna, which I guess must mean that she’s trampy, can’t sing (or act), speaks with a fake British accent and adopts Malawiian babies at the drop of a pink cowboy hat? She says she’s written over a hundred original songs, and is Kara DioGuardi’s biggest fan! Now I know for sure she’s a nutbag. As proof, she’s brought along her “songwriting” book, with all of her songs in it to show Kara. Funny how she professes to being a huge fan, and yet she keeps mispronouncing Kara’s last name as “DEE-oh-GAR-dee”.

As soon as she hits the audition room floor, she’s gushing over meeting Kara, and hands her The Book Of Songs…

…”Be sure to look at the song on page 143, it’s called “Put Me Through To Hollywood Or I’ll Stab You Five Or Six Hundred Times (Or Until My Hand Cramps Up)”…

Simon guesses that Lea is going to sing an original song (which we all know he hates because he only likes people to sing stuff he’ll get a royalty from). He is wrong, she’s going to sing “Every Time We Touch” by Cascada. To be fair, Lea sounds almost exactly like Cascada… it’s too bad that’s not much of a feat, though, and it’s all no’s for Lea. Kara tries to salvage Lea’s wounded pride by holding up The Book Of Songs and saying that someone who writes that amount of stuff “is someone who’s committed to something!” At least she left off “like a hospital.”

“And she’s attended your seminars?” queries Simon as Lea bounces out. Kara laughs crazily, “That’s my fan… what does that tell you about me?” Um, that you’ve met your target audience, Kara… oh, and you’re a bitch. Undaunted, Lea says she’ll be back next year, and giggles weirdly. Bwahahahahaha!

We get a good singer with Stevie Wright (who was named after Stevie Nicks, natch!) and she’s going after Etta James’ “At Last”, a song which was ruined for me in 2005 by a local drag queen who sang it live in competition for Miss Gay Arizona (I still have scars on my eardrums). However, Stevie actually has quite a good voice and gets her golden ticket, but she’s kinda boring and I’m not going to bother screencapping her.

Oh myyyy, the next one up is one helluva fine hunk of big daddyman, Michael Sarver, whom I am definitely screencapping…

…he’s also known as “walking temptation for J-Mo”…

Damn! He’s got a southern accent, too! Plus, he’s got a super-butch job, working as a roughneck on an oil rig (he says it’s the “fifth most dangerous job in the world”, and I’d agree, although I bet “being Kathy Griffin” ranks somewhere in the four slots above that) and as they play some masculine manly music we see him handling a giant (phallic) drill-bit as it penetrates the Labia of Mother Earth seeking those ever-important fossil fuels. Mmmm, he’s good with his hands and can handle large tools as well. Talk dirty to me, Mikey!

Ah crap-on-a-cracker, there’s his wife and kids. Oh well, the fantasy was nice while it lasted. At any rate, Simon tells him “You are the complete opposite of Ryan Seacrest, aren’t you!” which makes Mikey show that killer grin of his. Woof. Where was I? OH, yeah, he’s going to sing “Thank U” by Boyz II Men. Interesting choice, it’s almost always a mistake to try and emulate groups known for four-part harmony, but he actually does a damn good job of it (and I’m not just saying that because I’d like to rub him down with suntan lotion) and gets the inevitable rude comments from Randy about how when he closes his eyes, his great voice doesn’t “fit” what Mikey looks like…

…Yes, Big Daddy, that’s the chubby pot calling the kettle fat…

He gets four yes votes, and I’m super-excited that I’ma get to see his fine ass again later on in Hollywood. Hope he wears tighter jeans next time.

More unfunny bad singers (really, that joke has been pounded down to effin’ China) and then as the strains of Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” begin to percolate their way out of my TV, it’s time to meet the mysterious “Bikini Girl” that everyone’s been talking about, Miss Katrina Darrell. Miss Pussy Kat says she wore her bikini to audition in because she thought it would set her apart, and so that she could continue to tan while waiting several days in line to blow see the judges. It’s not likely that she’d have worn those two rubber bands and a napkin the entire time, because out here she’d have been flash-fried to a blackened crisp…

…after one minute…

…after one minute, ten seconds…

It’s also weird how her hair keeps changing color from blonde to brunette every other shot. Nice editing, Freemantle Media! She thinks this strategy has been successful, and that she’s gotten a lot of attention from wearing it (they cut to several girls giving her dagger eyes, so yeah, I guess that counts as attention). She sails on over to Psycho-ho-ho Landâ„¢ when she says how much she loves Ryan, and that she’s already picked out their children’s names. Ryan looks frightened of her, and rightfully so, the girl ain’t playing with a full set of Tinkertoys.

“We’re gonna make out when I get my golden ticket!” she tells him. Struggling not to vomit, Ryan says “*gulp* I think it’s a-against the r-rules? I’m hoping guessing? But believe me… the thought of it… (urps a little lunch) …is something I will hang on to!” Yeah, as a boner-killer, perhaps.

Anyhow, Miss Thing sashays her way into the audition room, and of course, Simon cartoonishly bugs his eyes out, and Randy stutters out a question asking if she goes out to all auditions dressed like this? (Well, duh, Randy, you don’t need a business suit to get a part in “Butt-Bangers Volume 72″, you need an easily removable bikini!) Katrina says no, she just wore it to this audition. Kara and Paula are, of course, hating her the second they lay eyes on her, and Kara bitchily has Katrina turn around so Randy and Simon can get a better look at her ass…

…man oh man, am I gay…

Way to show how insecure you are, Kara! Millions in the bank and you still gotta act all threatened by the first little skank that bounces your way? On with the singing! Katrina’s going to do “Vagina Vision Of Love” by Mariah Carey (who is the exact same age as me, a fact which never seems to find the bottom of my Personal Pond Of Bitternessâ„¢).

Strangely, it’s actually pretty good, Katrina has a voice on her and she’s in tune, although she lays the melisma on too thick (you can thank Mariah for that trend, too) and she has a bad case of gospel mouth that makes her look fish-faced when she’s making her vocal runs. When she finishes she gets an immediate yes from Simon‘s erection. This pisses off Kara who wants to hear exactly why Katrina’s being put through. “Why not?” replies Simon. Touché!

Randy also gives her a yes, saying Pussy Kat has “potential”. Kara swings into a Real Housewives Of Orange County Modeâ„¢ as she prepares to drop a ballsy bold-faced lie: “Okay, honestly?…and this isn’t because you’re a beautiful girl, and I don’t want this to come across as ‘oh, she was angry because she’s beautiful and young’, cuz it’s not, but the thing is…” and with that, Kara starts singing “Vision” as well, and saying that Katrina’s version had no “swing”. I guess Kara means Katrina should have made stupid arm movements and snapped her fingers (like she did)…

…Kara demonstrates “swing” while Paula demonstrates “almost lucid”…

Randy and Simon both call out that they preferred Katrina’s version… feeling emboldened, Kat offers to do the wailing histrionics at the end of the song (she better pull out all the stops, put one finger in her ear and do the patented Mariah Carey Dismissive Waveâ„¢ if she wants to carry this off!). Displaying bitchassery not yet seen on this show, Kara DioGuardi is actually trying to sing over her, and then puts Kat down for aping Mariah’s runs exactly! Wow, open hostility! I love it!

“Honestly, you don’t have the chops to sing that song, sweetie!” sneers Kara. Katrina fires back with “But your demonstration wasn’t any better!” BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Paula screams and laughs “That was noooot the right thing to say!” and Kara’s super-pissed, saying “Hold on a minute, bitch!… How’s this?!?” and she starts singing it again! She’s doing her silly jazzy snappy hands (i.e. “swing”) and Paula’s trying to shut her up. I always love it when contestants call out the judging panel on their egotistical bullshit, and they slip and display their truly nasty superiority complexes… and when Simon and Randy both still insist that Katrina’s rendition was better, I have to award the match to Pussy Kat. Welcome to Hollywood! Kara looks bitter and shouts “Next time come naked!” Jealous much?

Well, she’s got her golden ticket… where’s Ryan? Well, he’s out by the pool hiding in the cabana with the towel boy, where else? Pussy Kat is not going to be denied her Kiss From A Queen, so she finds him and plants one on him…

…it’s like kissing your sister, right Kat?…

Ha ha, they’re playing Katie Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” during this part! Heyyyy, that got me thinking, maybe that’s why they’re not gonna have Idol Gives Back this year… they blew their whole budget on song rights for these shows! Anyhow, Ryan looks like he’s desperate for some Purell Anti-Girl-Germ Sanitizer and makes Kat jump in the pool before jumping in himself, hoping the chlorine will wash away the skank.

After the Ford/Coke break, we meet Eric Thomas, who also goes by the name “Sexual Chocolate”. He even has it tattooed on his back…

…funny how it looks like “Sexual Chacolate”…

Randychub wants to know where Eric got the nickname “Sexual Chocolate”… Simon jumps in with “You stole it off Randy, didn’t you?” Eric giggles and says one of his friends in school called him that and everybody started laughing. He shows them the tattoo (Kara and Paula both notice the “Chacolate” thing) and I can’t believe none of the judges recall where this term really came from! In case you’re wondering, too, Sexual Chocolate was the name of the backup band for an obviously gay character (Randy Watson) played by Eddie Murphy in the film “Coming To America”. I’m thinking this might be why all of Eric’s friends laughed at him…

…Sexual Chocolate 1988…

…Sexual Chocolate 2008…

Out of all of them, I’m surprised that Paula Abduhl doesn’t remember this, since she choreographed the dance scenes for the film! Ah well, I’m sure Paula has trouble remembering her last breakfast Xanax, it shouldn’t surprise me that she can’t remember a movie she worked on 20 years ago.

I was liking Eric up until the point where they asked him what he was going to sing, and when he answered “Stevie Wonder.” before I could stop it my remote was flying across the room and crashing into my TV screen. If I had one wish for American Idol (okay, I have several, but this is one that is actually attainable) it would be NO MORE STEVIE WONDER SONGS!!! The man writes incredibly intricate and difficult melodies… songs that Stevie Wonder himself has a hard time singing these days… and in the hands of most of these amateurs, they just assfuck them to pieces.

Nevertheless, Sexee Chacolate is going to attempt “Ribbon In The Sky”. He sounds just like Randy Watson. Simon stops him with a terse “Thank you, Sexual!” Paula happens to read on Eric’s info sheet that if he doesn’t make it through, his mom is gonna buy him a car?!? Enjoy your new wheels, Eric!

Far less interesting is yet another annoyingly perky girl named Brianna Quijada, who immediately jumps on my last nerve since she’s one of those people who say “Ohhh myyyy Gaaaahhd!” 8 billion times when she’s finally face to face with the judging panel. She does a really cheesy squeaky lounge-lizard version of Deniece Williams’ “Let’s Hear It For The Boy” which causes Simon to immediately clock the fact that she got in to see them based on her bubbly personality and not her actual talent. They want to know what else she was going to sing, and she literally goes for the throat of Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly”…

…and the joke just writes itself…

She false-starts twice, she’s forgetting the words, she ends with an ugly set of “Ohh-ohh-ohh”s and it’s a no-no-noo from Randy and Kara… but she gets a yes from Paula… and Simon?!? Well, he says he likes her, by which he probably means he can see she is going to be television platinum when she loses her shit and goes all wackadoo sometime during Hollywood week.

On the other end of the annoying spectrum is Louisville, Kentucky native Deanna Brown, who actually does a pretty credible job with Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay”, I rather liked the smoky edge to her voice (it reminds me of a slightly softer Melissa Etheridge). She doesn’t have to whine and beg and plead like Brianna, she just gets her four yes votes and sails on through.

Back again to represent us gays, we have young Cody Sheldon, who hails from Detroit, Michigan (which is where my BF is from, holla atcha boyz in Waterford Township, yo!) and Cody seems like he’s fun, he loves music and enjoys “captivating” people… however, there is a “Dark Side” to him…

…y’think sistah-girl there is feeling it, too?…

It turns out that Cody likes to make super-bloody and gory horror films on his video camera. That’s it??!? I thought they were going to say he ran his own emo-gang or a meth lab or something (although Paula’s mushy pronunciation makes it sound like she said “You make whore movies with your video camera?”). Anyhow, he’s going to sing “Wonderful World” by James Morrison, a song which I am not familiar with. However, he does a pretty good job, and gets praise from the panel, although Kara D’yaGagMe never passes up the chance to spout that meaningless “Your voice and your look don’t really add up!” bullshit. Shut up, Kara. I hate you worse than the other three, and it’s only been one show. Cody’s movin’ on to Hollywood, where I’m hoping he gets a chance later on to stab Kara.

To further amuse himself this season, Simon Cowell has been asking contestants which three countries they would be popular in (and we are treated to the inevitably stupid medley of answers such as “New York” and “California” and I’m sure Sarah Palin would have answered “Africa”), but he is quite shocked when he asks geeky nerdboy Alex Wagner-Trugman and gets back “Ummm, Abkhazia, Zimbabwe and Canada?” Interesting…

Alex says he taught himself how to sing in his closet late at night, but apparently there was a bunch of black mold in there and he wound up getting really sick…

…and I’m not so sure he’s really recovered all that well…

Of course, this means that Simon has to start things off with “Okay, and you’ve just come out of the closet it says here…” Ba-dum-bump. Alex finds that lame, too, and gives a hollow “Ha ha” in Simon’s direction. Of course, Mr. Man-Boobs himself insists he didn’t mean it like that, but he’s a huge tool, so we know he did. Lame gay jokes are apparently still funny over in England?

Anyhow, Alex says he wants to sing “Baby, Come To Me” by James Ingram (and Patti Austin!) but only if Randy Jackson will sing the chorus along with him! Randy’s looking like that whole closet comment has him worried now. Alex starts singing, and it’s actually not too shabby, he’s doing a pretty good job, even when Randy is supposed to join in (which he barely does, singing mostly under his breath) he manages to keep on pitch, a fact that Randy points out, and says he liked it.

Simon, of course, doesn’t, because you don’t toss a sarcastic “Ha ha” in his direction and get away with it! You’re supposed to laugh until you puke over closet-jokes. Alex offers to sing “God Save The Queen” instead! LOLz for Alex! Simon looks pissed. Randy’s giving him a yes, and Simon interrupts to make sure Alex knows he’s getting a big fat NO from him, and says there’s no way he can do well in the competition, “So Randy saying yes is sort of ridiculous!” No, what’s ridiculous is calling people fat, calling them bush-babies, calling them drag-queens, retards, trannies and closet-cases… and then getting all bent out-of-shape when a kid hands you a little backsass…

…I guess there’s only room for one smarmy smug smartass on this show…

Randy is going to go to bat for Alex and says “Let me give you one name… Joe Cocker!” Quick as a glacier, Simon retorts “I would say more cocker spaniel!” to which Alex quietly replies “That would be a good joke if it made sense…” Oh Alex, I love you! So do Randy, Paula and Kara, and he’s through to Hollywood, while Simon just makes kitty-sphincter facial expressions…

…dude, you just got pwned by a teenager…

Of course, it just wouldn’t be an American Idol audition show without the inevitable fake-montage of bad singers all butchering the same song. Because this is the Southwest, they’re grinding the guts out of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive”. I don’t know why they continue to produce these lame-ass things, it’s been proven before that they are completely falsified edit jobs, the people singing are not performing for Randy, Kara, Paula and Simon, they simply intercut footage of reaction shots that have nothing to do with the singers themselves (and this is why so many of them forget the words, because they never sang the song in their own auditions). Stop treating us like idiots 19 Entertainment!

At least they are gonna end on a genuine note tonight, as we are introduced to Scott MacIntyre, who was born almost completely blind (he says he only has 2 degrees of tunnel vision, which is still way bigger than Simon Cowell’s Sliver Of Compassionâ„¢). He taught himself to play classical piano mostly by touch and has since become a singer/songwriter (he’s playing some kind of original music piece that sounds quite pretty).

Scott hasn’t let being mostly blind keep him from doing stuff, either… he’s gone skiing and even been ballroom dancing, went to college at 14 and graduated at 19! Jeez, this guy is teflon-coated against sticky snark-barbs. Anyhow, he’s going to sing “And So It Goes” by Billy Joel (I have to be honest, this is one of my least-favorite songs ever!) and when he opens his mouth…

…actually, I think he’s kind of lucky he doesn’t have to see the four train-wrecks sitting before him…

Damnitall! He’s making me like this beshitted middle-of-the-road schlock-fest by Billy Fucking Joel! He’s got a great tone, awesome control, and he even modulates his volume so it’s not at an all-out blast for the entire song. Of course it’s four yes votes. And the last thing we see is Ryan making a complete dumbass out of himself…

…by trying to high-five a nearly blind man…

The only thing I think I can say in regards to Scott is that if he makes it to the top 12 it’ll be quite a challenge for the show’s choreographer (and maybe this will be the catalyst that will cause the producers to finally shitcan the lame dance productions!). One can only hope.

And there we have it! What did you think of this first episode? Are you excited for this season? Do you think Kara DioGuardi is a good addition to the show? Will Paula Abdul time-travel again this year (thus allowing her to see and hear more performances that haven’t yet happened)? Stay tuned, another American Idol recap is coming your way shortly by another member of the TVGasm family. As for me, I’m back on skank-duty over at Double Shot At Love on MTV… I hope you all had as much fun with this one as I did!

love, J-Mo