Recap: America’s Got Talent: Are You Ready To Rumble?

A’ight kiddies, tonight was part deux of the “Tuesday Night Event” to show us the last ten performers up for your consideration and tell us which losers are really losers, and which losers are only losers for one more week. The Jerr-ster assures us tonight will be “a night to remember” but I feel that most likely, sitting alone with a notebook and drinking micheladas while watching David Hasselhoff and making fun of him to no one in particular does not a festive night make. And yet, with more “Star Wars”-esque graphics and the booming announcer voice introducing all of tonight’s acts, I do sort of feel like I might be at a boxing match. Are you ready to rumble? Oh, no. That’s Jerry’s other show.

During their introductions, Sharon is dressed like a witch and The Hoff just smiles like the self-satisfied little bitch that he is. He remarks, “Tonight we’ve got Southern guys, Southern girls, we’ve got guys on stilts, we’ve got guys in girls’ bodies…” Jerry is quite quick with his comeback, “Sounds like MY show!” Ha ha, good one, Jerr. Now sit down. You’re on HASSELHOFF’s show now.

Hoff prophesizes, “Tonight… hearts will be broken… and dreams will be made.” Does he write this shit himself?

The first group to entertain us tonight are the Second Story Guys, who perform to the Gloria Estefan cover of “Turn The Beat Around.” Is there any greater song on earth? Still, they dance better than most white guys can do even on solid ground. Trust me – last weekend I saw two guys doing the jump-and-clap-and-WHOO! with the awkward pelvic shake to top it all off. Unacceptable.

It’s like a gay LSD nightmare.

After that, I challenge any of you to look me straight in the eye and tell me those dudes are heterosexuals. I dare you. Piers loves them and calls them “fresh.” I say they each look a little bit like Lance Bass.

Even the black guy.

Hoff says, “No pun intended….” and makes a lame tall joke. But really, when are any of your puns unintended, Hoffy? We all know you guys have a team of writers backstage. Jerry even makes a couple of “size doesn’t matter” jokes. How original!

After a short break, the girl group Southern Girl strut out onstage in unison wearing coordinated dresses and shoop-de-doop their way through “If I Ain’t Got You.”

One beat before the “KAPOW!” of the hips.

Originally, I made fun of Angela, Mistee and Shekoia because of their stripper names, but they’ve got loads of personality and actual talent. They flirt and wink and shimmy when necessary. They’ve got that X-factor that everyone in L.A. wishes they had and only 2% actually do. Grandpa Hasselhoff even puts on his specs to get a better look.

“Yessssss ladies… shake it for Daddy…”

In their judging, Piers and Sharon rightly tell them that they had a couple of off-notes, and that they can’t tell who is the lead. Well, hey, at least they changed up the song and made it their own. Remember that awful set of twins who butchered the Alicia Keys song with boredom a few weeks back? Anyway, one of the girls (probably the one will one day become the lead) stands up and says to them, “I just want you to know, there ISN’T a lead. We are a group. We all lead, we all sing.” No lead? Weak! Is that what Beyoncè said? NO. Is that what Diana Ross said? NO. Is that what Paul McCartney and John Lennon said? NO. They fought over the lead position while Ringo didn’t get shit.

Next is the Popovich Comedy Theatre, which, until this moment, I never realized had such a thought-out and established name. The main dude says his family has been in the circus for 4 generations. How appropriate that you came to this show, then! Their set is very elaborate; they even sprung for fake snow. Unfortunately, not much happens except for a dog eating a mini-wiener off of a plate. And if I’m not mistaken, that’s not a trick. That’s just called having a pet. In fact, the act is so boring that I will even compare it to the disappointing magician from last week. The kind of act that makes three minutes seem excruciatingly long.

Oh my God. I’ve never seen anything so amazing. *Sigh*

Of course the judges agree with me, and Piers even uses his all-powerful X-ing ability against them. Even animal softie Sharon thinks it was crap. This puts bitchy Daughter Popovich into a bad mood.

“Papa, buy me a new ferret. Now!”

Up next is our favorite stoner-turned-stay at home dad, Cas Haley, to whom I also affectionately refer as “Mr. New Chuck Taylors.” Yes, his wardrobe leaves a bit to be desired, and yes, he’s kind of a pussy and cries every episode, but his voice is great and he has a real presence. The ironic thing is that he tells us that his parents were both musicians so he knows how hard it is to make a living and provide for your family in this business… but somehow uses this as a rationalization for how he will provide for HIS family by being a musician. Huh-wha-??

Makin’ the big bucks?

He sings “Higher and Higher,” which is a lovely song, but now I have to go on a tangent and say what the hell ever happened to songwriting?? I mean, surely a man who FEEEEELS this much and has a musical inclination and who has probably been through some shit can take a crack at writing a song of his own. I mean, we’re not expecting Britney Spears to write her own shit but certainly this guy has a brain in his head and a heart in his body so that should add up to something. Are they not allowed to perform their own material or something? What, if he makes it will he just sing Bob Marley and Dave Matthews songs on tour? Come on, brother man… just a few days ago I saw a band that consisted of a bunch of 17- and 18-year-olds, and even THEY had at least 20 original songs, good ones too! You’ve had 30 years to get this right.

Anyway…. the judges are absolutely floored by him and completely blow his talent out of proportion, but I think we can all agree he’s good and will return. He waves (and cries a li’l) to his 18-month-old in the audience, ensuring the parent vote (not to mention the idealistic, love-hungry, sensitive-man-seeking girl vote).

Next is a man who, whenever interviewed, makes me want to smack him across the face just because I imagine he’s the type of guy who’d use a bad line on ya in a bar (“Hey, you know what I like about you? Everything”). I imagine that outside of his craft he is a telemarketer or perhaps T.G.I. Friday’s waiter. But then when he performs I’m all, “Awww, he’s pretty good.” Yes, it’s the only decent ventriloquist left in America, Terry Fator.

“I like your shirt. It’ll look really good when it’s rumpled up beside my bed.”

He waltzes out onstage with a turtle puppet and an introduction to sing “What A Wonderful World.” I think, Oh great, he’s gonna have the turtle be Satchmo? Nice, I roll my eyes. What a douche. Keep your cocktail to yourself, buddy. But then he starts the act and the turtle is doing the song as Kermit The Frog! “Cooooool!” I practically yell out loud. Wow, that was unnecessary. Sorry, I’m partial to Muppets.

But then, THEN the turtle says in the middle of the song, “Are YOU gonna do an impersonation?” and then Terry (what a douchey name!) starts singing as a pitch-perfect Satchmo!! YES! I have to admit that it’s definitely unique. Fuckin’ weird, and how long will America be amused by this?, but definitely unique. And it made me stop thinking he’s a douchenozzle. That’s the most impressive part, to be honest with you. Apparently all it takes to get me to warm up to you is an unexpected Louis Armstrong impression. Who knew?

Now performing is The Faultline, the beatboxing/singing group. The lead dude says that just before this opportunity, they were “steps away from breaking up.”

Literally. Breaking up is just across the street.

But fortunately Piers ‘N’ Gang have revived their love for performing. During this particular act they sounded good enough… they didn’t tear their shirts off or anything, but there was some pelvic action on the lead’s part so I guess snarky beggars can’t be choosers. It’ll do. However, during their act I notice a line in Wacko Jacko’s “The Way You Make Me Feel” that I never had before: “You’re just a product of loneliness.” That’s so condescending. It has nothing to do with this group at all, but isn’t that so condescending?

Assy and the McDouches

Oh joy! Next is Boy Shakira, the contestant we hate to love, the man whom all men watching feel awkward over fantasizing about. Even better, the editors tease us with the revelation that tonight, he/she will NOT be Shakira! It will be a surprise! But we can all tell by the shadowy pigtails that he will now be our favorite crack ho.

Nope… okay, I guess I should say our SECOND favorite crack ho.

Yes, folks, it’s now Boy Britney, performing “Hit Me Baby.” I wonder if Boy Britney got his blonde wig from the same purveyor as the real Britney got hers.

Sausage, anyone?

She is absolutely hilarious, does an admirable job dancing, and showed guts for changing it up. I guess she had to, since that Shakira act can only go so far. I can’t help but think of the Broadway show Boy Britney could potentially have… just imagine all the costume changes! She could be Boy J. Lo, Boy Xtina, Boy Beyoncè, Boy Lohan (or Boyhan, if you prefer). All those chicks look like they’re in drag anyway. Piers’ undying affection for Boy Britney just shows how kinky he can actually get under that suit and tie. B.B. says proudly to Jerry and America, “This is me. This is me!” I imagine it’s been a long, hard road for her to get to a place where she’s able to say that confidently, unabashedly. In the end, Boy Britney is so sweet and good-hearted, a real class act, that I just have to root for him. Sorry, her. Him? Her? Moving on…

Next we’re treated to the vocal stylings of Jason Pritchett, who is so boring and mediocre and filled with bad hairplugs that I fast forward through his rendition of “Life Is A Highway.” I don’t even find it recap-worthy, so if you really want to know what it’s like, just watch this and imagine it even shittier.

Oh man, that scorpion is classic! Next is the Calypso Tumblers, a group whom we’ve never actually seen perform outside of 3-second mentions in montages. But they’ve been doing this for 20 years, says one. If you fall, “Gravity pull you down, and the concrete wait for you.” That’s deep, man. Deep stuff. They do a semi-impressive act, although one dude keeps making this creepy cunnilingus face that just makes me shudder.

Then Grampie Hasselhoff tells us a li’l story. He was bicycling through Venice Beach and he saw them performing and they were just great. Wait, can we just pause for a moment and think about David Hasselhoff cycling in Venice Beach? Oh jeesy. Okay, now that that’s out of the way…

I think we should have seen more from that dude all the way to the right.

Why don’t we join the Jerr-ster for a nice hearty dose of “why we should all use birth control.” Yes, it’s the Duttons, and yes, there are still about 80 of them onstage. They wax poetic about how amazing all this fame business has been for them, and all I can hope for is that fame won’t destroy them as it has for others.

(Okay, let’s face it, if she hadn’t been famous, she would have ended up a Meth-head anyway.) The Duttons, however, are going totally against their Midwestern roots and performing “La Bamba.” Seriously? Allllll rigghhhhhhht… whatever you say…. But no matter what they do or how technically well they play, they are still a whole bunch of these:

Sure, they get all the words right, but when you’re whiter than a cotton field in January, you just look ridiculous.

“Cool beans!”

And that’s the end of Part 2 of the semifinals. So the question now is, who is the greater majority of voters? The Midwestern vote? The animal lover vote? The country vote? The teen girl vote? The gay vote? The 13-foot-guy vote? I’m going with Boy Britney on this one.

But wait, there’s more! We get to find out who are the new finalists after last week! There are 10 of them but only 5 spots! Oh my gosh, who will it be?? I’m on the edge of my fucking seat. Jerry announces the winners in his typical dramatic fashion. First up: 14-year-old hack Julie Irwin (no surprise). Then Butterscotch (no surprise), followed by the Glamazons, Crest Whitestrips, and then……. oh my God…….. if the damn hot guys don’t get through, O. Snapp will NOT be happy… the last group is…………

IS………………..

IS!!!!……………………..

My lovers!

Yes, Sideswipe! Thank God. If they hadn’t gotten through, I would have started to think there was something seriously wrong with America’s standard of beauty.

But all is right with the world, for now (except for the fact that it’s been three days and I can’t get “Life Is A Highway” out of my head). Next week we get to see which one of tonight’s performers survives. I watched the show too late to vote – who did you vote for? See you on the boards!