Seven’s a lucky number. It’s also a movie so sick it makes you wonder if the end is near. I sense a theme! This. Is American Idol 7!
Chris Daughtry said in a Rolling Stone interview published this week that the show that spawned him is “slipping” because so much time is devoted to the sucky no talents. He feels that the world would take the show more seriously if the show took itself more seriously. Really? Because you seem to be taking yourself pretty seriously and I laugh my ass off every time I think about you rolling all over a Ford in plastic chains lip synching to a synthesized muzak version of a classic rock song. Shut up, Chris Daughtry.
Then yesterday morning, as I tried to peacefully make love to a Little Caesar’s five dollar pepperoni pizza, the hags on The View were bitching about AI. Elizabeth was just mortified that some white trash poor person spread her ass cheeks (through her dirty jeans) at the camera on tonight’s episode when, for what couldn’t possibly been the first time, the girl was told that she had no talent. LOL. The show is vulgar and plebian, and THAT”S WHY WE LOVE IT!! Isn’t it the same reason we watch The View? You can shut up too, Hasseldreck.
So I guess my point is for you, the Americans who have been standing around the watercooler (or in line to buy vodka at the Russian deli) yapping about the sad decline of American Idol: can we collectively cut the crap and just admit that human beings are animals and always have been and we like the taste we get in our mouths when dissilusionment, public humilation and despair fall upon people we don’t know? Say whatever you want to. The reason we all come back year after year is…
Tinkerbell, in an adorable plaid straight guy shirt, flies through a series of clips emphazing the giant audition turnouts around the country and lands to a packed stadium in Philadephia, where every delusional no talent in a three hundred mile radius huddles together to “woo!” as they wait their turns, each one thinking they might be the next Ruben Studdard. Sorry, guys. JHud already did that. You’ll have to pick a new dream. They pull back on the stadium and woah, that’s a whole lotta desperation. We get the usual quick flashing montage of hundreds of closeups, and the view of humanity is, as usual, horrifying.
It would never ever be ok to bomb a stadium, but if it was gonna happen, now’s the time.
One of the saddest shots for me personally was the chubby Indian boy in the gold glitter dance recital jacket who insisted we’ll never meet anyone as cool as him. Poor little fella. I hope to God his mother doesn’t let him wear that thing to school. I’ve been there, and it hurt.
And then we get to this sweet girl, who wants to win because…? She wants is to find her real family! WTF? No one here has the other other half of your tinfoil locket, hon. Catch the bus before sundown or Miss Hannigan will realize you’ve escaped and abuse and torture your little friends.
Oprah’s Big Give doesn’t start til March, whiney pants.
First to audition is Joey Catalano, who has recently lost ten thousand pounds and bought way cuter glasses. He tells us that he looked at himself in the mirror when he woke up this morning and said “wow.” Me too! Paula, who is sporting a “my hair is pulled back and slicked which means I’m smarter and more mature now please forget you ever saw Hey, Paula! and try to take me seriously” do, immediately brings up Joey’s weight. Then she and Randy give a couple half assed “woos”, probably suspecting (as I do) that they’re sitting in front of a two time Biggest Loser. We are all wrong. He nails it. He has a big, smoky tenor, and all three judges love it. Simon is a bit worried about, well “YOU”, but he digs the voice and Philadelphia is off to a good start.
Rome wasn’t filmed in a day, Simon. Give the boy some time to adjust.
He’s going to Hollywood, of course, and as he leaves Simon says he needs to put on weight because he looks hungry. You’re damned if you do, you’re damned if you don’t. The boy greets his family and friends, leading them in a big group dance. Then he bites off his grandma’s arm and starts scarfing it down. You have recognition now, Joey. No need to stay thin. As he celebrates, Tink wanders off to try to prove his masculinity again with Teri Hatcher and her sister.
Next up is gap toothed Egyptian Iyalahlah Takitalalattalttddsa, or as his friends call him, Yucca. What kind of friends would call you that? He loves the BeeGees because “his group make me feel high in da sky. That’s why listen the BeeGees make me feel sooo special. For me.” I have a feeling Yucca might be better suited to the songwriting competition. Or a desert garden in New Mexico. I don’t care where you place him, just please don’t make it on my TV.
Yucca like American grrrrl. His American ideals are tainted a bit when a skinny crack ho-ey chick comes to sit next to him and starts pelting him with questions. “You in love? You got kids?” He says he wants to get married first and she gets offended. “What? You think you gotta be married to have kids? Welcome to the new city, baby, cuz that’s all that’s goin’ on in here.” LOLOLOLOLLLL crack ho. Yucca is deterred for a sec, but then remembers that he is sexy face and gives us that big beautiful smile.
Dude, loosen up. You could totally bang her.
Sorry, ho. Yucca is gonna save himself for the grr he will give his whole life for, who he will love from her hair down to her nipple. Hot. When he gets in front of the judges, they of course stumble over his name as long as possible, and then Simon sees on the resume that Yucca likes Paula. Of course! She’s a good singer! Simon and every American with working eardrums roll our eyes and it’s official. This guy’s a tool. As he sing of Mr. The BeeGee, he changes key five times, snaps off rhythm, and basically sounds like Balky getting the shit beat out of him.
Paula phonily says that she really appreciates the way he learned the song “phonetically”. Then Simon bullies her into continuing, and she awkwardly stutters around YOU SUCK. Randy takes over and breaks the little fellas heart. Aw. At least you sexy face. WTF is up with Randy’s face? And his shirt? And his breath? Sorry, that was uncalled for. But you know it smells like Taco Bell.
Hey, isn’t that the sexy guy from Dukes of Hazzard? No. Just tricky facial hair. Darn. Got me!
Melanie is next, and she’s another backup singer. For Taylor Hicks!! Needless to say, she’s out of a job. Poor thing. Like last year’s Melinda Doolittle, Melanie is super sweet, polite, and cute. Unlike Melinda, she kinda blows. She sounds airy and off key to me, but Randy and Paula love her. Maybe I’m bugged that she sang the theme song to The Hills. Can you really compete with…wait, who sings that stupid song? This is probably the first time in history that dropping Taylor Hicks’ name has ever been fruitful.
Next up is a semi retarded tour guide who sings like a record being played backwards. Randy and Paula laugh their asses off as he slogs out “og elpoep ym tel”, until he finally stands there dumbfounded that grown adults could be so rude. Maybe they’re laughing because they want to hear another song! And this is where I stop feeling sorry for the guy. He starts in on another one and Simon finally shuts him up and apologizes. He’s just not cut out for stardom. Or going out in public. Semitard bucks up and takes it like a man, promising Tink he’ll “trial” again next year, and he’ll come in with some contemporary songs. At least he can see that his song choice is the reason he isn’t going to Hollywood. Maybe “I’m Coming Home” sung backwards will win them over.
Your ride’s here, Semitard.
Montage of terrible singers. Sweaty armpit guy, angry girl who won’t stop until Simon tells her to shut up, Ando from Heroes…wait. What’s he doing here?
I’m sick of playing second fiddle.
Then a guy named Junot (evil parents) blows the judges away. I figured he would suck because he looks like a Randy doppelganger, complete with horrid shirt, but he sang an Elton John song and nailed it. He’s going to Hollywood. Simon even winks at him. Ew. Mini Randy starts a trend, and the Judges are treated to some real talent. A guy in a sideways hat that sings in Spanish, a cute little cracker with High School Musical hair. That movie is filled with role models. FOR GIRLS.
Blame Zach Efron.
Next up is Temptress Brown, or as I like to call her, Holy Moly Please Don’t Hurt Me. Temptress is a football player, which scares the crap out of Tink. He starts babbling on and on about how much he likes football and how hard it is to dribble the ball and get a hole in one, and finally the girl flicks his head and sends him flying across the room. Temptress is here today for herself and her ma, because she has trouble breathing. A respirator might have been a better gift, but I’m glad to meet ya.
I hope Temptress becomes famous so Eddie Murphy can play her and family in a movie.
These two are totally sweet. Temptress takes care of her mom, from getting her water to paying the bills, and her mom supports her in everything she does. As long as it pays the bills. I really hope Temptress is awesome, because she has fifteen pets and a mama that need feeding. She announces that she’ll be singing “I Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” by Jennifer Hudson, which is the first sign that she’s in trouble. The second sign is that I had to pause the DVR and go to bed because I felt a wave of depression.
The Judges tell her she’s a wonderful person and adorable and lovely but she can’t sing for shit. She starts crying. Then sobbing. AW!! Paula suggests a group hug. Really? She and Randy hug the girl while she begs to have another chance, and then Simon offers to walk her out to cut down on the embarrassment. WTF is up? Is this gonna be a kinder, gentler season? Because I’m not ok with that. Y’all knew she sucked and you put her on a platform to be ridiculed by the entire country. Don’t give me that group hug bs.
Not buyin’ it.
A guy who can make cricket noises (oooooh aaaaaaah) walks into the audition room, pulls out a picture of Bing Crosby, and pisses all over it. Then a dude named Udgeet brings Frank Sinatra’s ghost into the room and kicks him in the balls. Udgeet uses music as a “creative way to run a business meeting”, and even goes so far as to add a pimp costume and MC Hammer moves. How are there homeless people if wack jobs like this can lead business meetings? I never realized the lyrics to “My Way” were so depressing, but when Udgeet wails out “I’ve reached my final curtain”, I believe him.
I do owe Udgeet thanks though, because he’s finally pushed Simon into dick mode. He asks if Udgeet really thought he had a chance in hell and when the guy positively nods yes, Simon informs him that he’s crazy and can only sing one flat note. Then the judges laugh and laugh, and Udgeet visibly wonders how this is all gone so wrong when everyone in his office has a smile for him when he breaks out Frankie in meetings. Simon’s advice? “Keep batteries in your calculator.”
Could you elaborate?
Montage of badness, this time to the tune of “I Love Rock and Roll”. Fat dude with a “Dear Lord” shirt, a drag queen, a midget, three girls dressed like For the Boys extras, and possibly the sexiest girl to audition for America Idol. EVER.
Alright, who’s got a boner?
Cut to the entire stadium finishing off “I Love Rock and Roll”. Off key and off the beat. Way to go, Philly. And now to Alexis, who I already love because this is the girl who pissed off Hasseldreck on The View. Alexis has glittery eyebrows, a glittery t-shirt, glittery earrings, and a glittery dyke chain that holds the keys to the one room apartment she shares with her mom. The camera crew went all the way to Allentown to get footage, which really must have made Alexis think she was onto something. So wrong. Her mom even went out and bought a new scrunchie for the occasion, and that money could have been spent on food. Or glitter.
Take my kid to Hollywood or take her to Alaska. I don’t care. I just want to be ALONE!!!
Alexis gives the cameras a victory speech before going into the audition room about being “victorious enough”. Oh god, let’s just please do this. She tells the judges that she is compared to Janis Joplin. I wonder if people smirk when they tell her that. Alexis really isn’t so bad. She does a pretty good Pat Benetar impression, which after an hour of Philly kinda works for me. Simon says she seems possessed, like she’s “channeling the voices” and Randy and Paula condescendingly tell her that she should find a 60′s cover band to join. Or a circus.
She takes it well in front of them, but when she leaves the room her mom has that “Oh jeeze, here we go” look on her face, and Alexis slowly starts to throw a shit fit. She flips off the cameras and then rants and raves about how rude Simon was. How dare a person mock someone? Well fuck you, Cowell! Alexis is gonna start actressing! Her mother tries to warn her that that’s even harder than imitating Pat Benetar and says Simon’s an a hole because he’s British, to which Alexis replies “No! He was born!” Umkay. Then she runs into the confessional and puts her ass in the camera. As she goes on, Simon asks the techies in the audition room who played the bad guy in Spiderman 1. Willem Dafoe? “Yes. She looks like William Dafoe.” So wrong. But so right.
You should use this shot for your actressing.
As she leaves, she curses and shouts out a speech about being victorious and then looks back at the camera man and shouts “hope to hear from ya! I’ll be waiting!” Wow. Next up, a gorgeous blond with a bangin body who kick boxes. Gee, I wonder if she’ll make it. But first is Angela, a young single mother from Chicago. Her kid is sick and Angela wants to win so she can get her hospital care. And she’s adorable. She sings “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”, and she’s really good. She has her own wedding band, so Simon tells her to cut out the cutesy hey’s and pointing, but otherwise good job. Alright, now get your kid to a doctor for crying out loud.
As Angela screams and yells with her family in the hall, Simon says that it’s amazing how Americans have the ability to be happy for their friends when they get good news. LOL. Don’t worry, we’re also happy when our friends get bad news. We just like news. Montage of super crappy belters, ending with Brandi. Brandi screeches out “How Do I Get You Alone”, and as she sounds like a mudslide and looks like Bruce Vilanche after a good shave, the answer is most likely “you don’t”.
Please God, don’t ever let her get me alone.
The next five minutes is devoted to a little bald 39 year old named Milo from Atlantic City who wrote a song called “No Sex Allowed” that he is sure will take the country by storm if he’s just given a chance. The song is about girls always wanting to have sex with him, which I buy, but the vest has to go. He says that he has a message for the youth of America. Start taking Propecia when you’re young.
The more you say no, the more I say yes!
And now for the beautiful blond. Kristy’s hot, she’s young, she’s normal, and she lives in a log cabin. Her mother isn’t 500 pounds and she didn’t have a kid when she was 19 that developed a serious illness, but she did sell a horse to buy a plane ticket to Philly, which is the saddest story I’ve heard all day. She should have ridden it there. She sings “Amazing Grace” country style and kicks ass. This girl will be in the finals fo sho. Atta girl. Simon suggests she get some confidence, but gorgeous blondes who move to Hollywood usually find confidence with no problem. Or they end up in porn. Time will tell. And then there’s this guy.
For those of you who need help with your diets.
Simon refuses to even listen to him sing, but Paula said she would take him seriously if he waxed off his chest hair. And he’s off! People are such fucking morons. We are an hour and a half into the show now and I keep looking out the window, sure the apocalypse will be upon us any second. When the crack ho takes her scary turn, I kind of hope for a nuclear blast.
Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye holy apostles and prophets; for God hath avenged you on her. – Revelations
Speaking of crack heads, the next guy sings a song he wrote about stalking Paula and breaking into her house to put on her underwear. As he creeps towards the table, he somehow rhymes stalking, caulking, walking, talking, and William Faulkner. Simon kicks him out for being creepy, but he’s the only one who’s offended. Oh, Paula. You would be flattered by that song. Good lord, woman.
For me? You’re a sweetheart! You should write a verse about cutting off my head and wearing my face.
Now it’s time for another stalker. Beth Stalker! Get it? Beth is cute blonde and skinny, and she seems fairly normal. Until she whips out a record she made when she was tiny called “Jesus Loves Me”. I don’t care what anyone says, that’s just creepy. She has a nice voice, for 1932, and I am shocked when Randy and Paula send her through to Hollywood.
Apparently he does, girl.
But he doesn’t love me.
Why God? WHY?
A pretty boy named Chris, who wants to sell more records when he’s dead than when he’s alive (?), sings his ass off, and Simon tells him he looks like a star. He is a unanimous pass. But the rest of the day goes downhill fast. By the end, there are only two girls left to see. A cute blond and a girl with Princess Leia hair and a Chewbacca growl. My bets on Chewie.
Carrie Fisher looks great for her age!
Chewie says “duh” a lot and drinks a lot of coffee. She wants to get the hell out of her hometown “because there’s nothing to offer”. Her only reasonable career opportunity is as a corrections officer, and the first time she’s overpowered by inmates she vows to name her spawn after Star Wars characters. Duh. Guys were all over her wanting her picture at the Star Wars convention, so she figures she must have something special. Yup. Two things. They’re pinned to the side of your head. Duh.
She slaughters “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me”, and when she’s told oh hell no, she cries to her grandparents that it’s just because she’s a dork and people are always judging her on her exterior, which is carefully crafted to show off her “goofiness”. Poor girl. The day will come that she realizes people are judging her on her interior too, I just hope someone’s around to film it. She screams about AI needing a dork as Brooke enters the audition room for her turn.
Brooke is a sweet nanny who’s never seen an R rated movie, had a beer or smoked a joint. You know she’s gonna get through, and the fact that she’s a dork is gonna kill Chewie. Bring her in to watch! They don’t. DAMMIT. After suggesting that her husband jerks off to internet porn after she goes to bed, Simon and Randy stop sexually harassing Brooke long enough to let her get out her Corinne Bailey Rae tune. This bitch is always droning in Starbucks about letting her hair down and I kinda hate her, so goody two shoes Brooke is standing on my last nerve. She’s meh, but the Judges love her and Simon promises to take her to the dark side.
Please follow up on that and get back to me.
As Chewie rants and raves outside about the Judges shunning any kind of diversity, big people small people yellow people purple people and even a couple faux hawks come out the doors with golden tickets. The montage is a bit mean spirited. The girl feels bad enough without the extra three minutes of idiocy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s on.
***American Idol Auditions will be a sitewide effort, so in the coming weeks look for your favorite recappers to take your favorite show on until T.Vo and I tag team the top 24 til the end. Love you, gasmii. Thanks for bein’ here. Flip