Recap: America’s Got Talent: Is this show over yet?

Doesn’t he look like a grown-up Chucky?

So it’s the 8th week of this retarded show and after the guilty pleasure of watching hordes of massively untalented people go home, the sweet taste of condescending satisfaction wears off and we’re left with the filmy aftertaste of the top ten. While the contestants cuddle with their inflated egos at night, I lay awake and wonder why Boy Britney and Kashif got through so far. I’m all for diversity, but… Terry Fator is different. These guys are just plain shitty. And so, through yet another painful week we sit through Piers being crotchety, Sharon being kittenish, and the Hoff sucking everyone’s proverbial cock with bad puns. If you skipped the show because of the eye-rolling injuries it causes but wonder whether America’s still “Got Talent,” don’t worry. I suffer so you don’t have to.

After the usual shmancy graphics and backlit intros, we get a little taste of the Jerr-ster, who is all gussied up in a suit and tie.

I finally found a tie to match my microphone!

Then we finally get to know our top ten! Yessss! After a week of agonizing, wondering who we would end up with, our curiosity is satisfied. I’ll tell you right now, Boy Britney looks so sweet and hopeful and innocent that I know he/she cannot possibly move forward.

Don’t get too excited, sweetie.

Poor thing. As crazy as she is, I still think Boy Britney is a sweetheart and I’m sad for her (as a person, not as a judge of talent) when her name is not called. Those who made it were the puppet dude, the Jamaican dudes (has Hoff made a “Jamaican me crazy” joke yet???), Mr. New Chuck Taylors, The Clown Car Vagina Family, and Douche Nozzle of the Universe. Yeah. America chose “Life Is A Highway” over a perfectly good act like Southern Girl. Or a drag queen. Or total utter silence for three minutes.

After every name called they play the same fucking jingle and it’s starting to drive me crazy! You know, the one they use when they come back from commercials too? You know, it goes, “Duh duh, duh Duh duh, DUH DUHHHHHH!” You know the one. They overuse it by about thirty times, but just when I start to gripe to myself I remember how many times they used “All Or Nothing At All” during the auditions and I start to remind myself to be grateful for the little things.

Anyway, at least Sharon is honest when she tells Jerry that there are a few acts that she would never, ever have let through to the top 10. Oh really? Then why did you let them through the audition phase?

Well, we’re lucky, kids, because tonight is Family Night at Mormon Central. The toothy tensome known as The Duttons mosey onto the stage to play “The Devil Went Down To Georgia.” Aren’t they running out of fiddle songs to play? I think they must have each had one friend vote for them, because I don’t see how else this snoozefest got through. They’re just so… wholesome. And so… nice. What does America see in them?

Hey man, why the long face?

Wasn’t she in “Van Helsing”?

Next is Robert Hatcher, who actually does have the best sob story I’ve ever heard: he works in the sewers.

Sob story… now with added dying grandfather!

After all of that I do wish that he would win, just so that sob story would become a rags-to-riches story that we can all believe in. Unfortunately, when he opens his mouth to sing, I would rather listen to a chorus of dozens of fingernails on one big chalkboard with backup vocals from ten teenage girls repeating, “LIKE OMG!!!! LOL!!!” Hasselhoff seemed to like it though. The judges and their delusional hearing all applaud him. Piers, at least, has his wits about him and informs the chap that he was not up to par.

The Calypso Tumblers tell us about their motherland in the West Indies and how, when their hometown found out they would be on TV, they used up all of the electricity and the place had a blackout! Wow, crazy story! I wonder, then, if everyone tuned into the same Yankees game one day and that was how New York had its blackout.

Who’s got the crazy eyes?

The Tumblers know exactly what America wants: more Gloria Estefan. They do some gymnastics to “Do The Conga” (number 9 on my all-time list of favorite guilty pleasures) and the whole time I just keep saying, “PLEASE no more tongue gymnastics!” Fortunately, the creepiest thing they did was rocking back and forth in this position:

I wonder if he can give himself a rim job?

Tasty. They top it all off with the gay 80′s kid doing a front flip ending with a rose ceremony to Mrs. Osborne.

“Yes! I will accept this rose!”

My my, what a romancer! If he didn’t follow it up with the most homosexual air kiss in history I would have bought it.

Gayer than… nope, there’s not much that’s gayer than an air kiss

Even Piers says it’s fantastic. When Jerry asks if there are any other positions they can possibly put the human body in that they haven’t already, I immediately yell, “Bend over, I’ll show you one!”

Now that was just crass. Something that’s also obscene is the fact that Jason Jerkface is still in this competition. He looks like he should be playing an evil kid on “24″ and his act always makes me want to shove two tampons up his nostrils and kick him in the nuts. Tonight he’s singing a ballad. Oh great. Which is more suicide-inducing, a ballad or “Life Is A Highway”?

Shut it, Chucky.

This time he’s reunited with his acoustic guitar and even has a trio of backup vocalists. This kid is already soft-rock crossover-ready! I can barely stomach his performance but I did happen to catch this little gem of a moment at the end of it:

“Stop, my chimes are ticklish!”

There’s nothing like the shimmer to really hammer home the point. In the judging, Hasselhoff tells McDoucheNozzle that his “career is really ‘cruising’ now!!” See, because he works as a cruise singer? Ha. The Hoff looks pretty proud of himself for that one as we cut to Jerkface’s fat-ass Missouri family cheering him on.

“Yay, Jerkface! More pie!”

I just wish there were a voting hotline to tell who you want to NOT go through.

“How many little girls does it take to beat me up?”

Up next is little miss Butterscotch, who starts off by telling us she grew up “in a tiny little tree with the other of the Keebler elves.” Maybe I misquoted her on that one, but she definitely is looking much better tonight than ever before, more womanly, with a fancy dress, curled hair and a backup band to boot. Wait, a backup band? Isn’t the point of it all that SHE is the band? It’s true that much of her beatboxing gets lost in the band, but she still has a good voice to sing with. Plus, Jerry tells her, “You go, girlfriend!!” and gives her an awkward 2-Snaps-’Round-The-World-in-a-Z-Formation, so I guess she’s got his vote.

“Jazz Hands!”

Now, everyone has their story, and the Glamazons are no different. Their sob story is that they’re overweight. They’re winning attitude is that they don’t care, and please pass the donuts. The token redhead of the group whines that they’re not here for their bodies, they’re here because of their voices. But see, that’s not actually true. They ARE there because of their bodies. Their voices are mediocre at best, and of course their dancing isn’t mind-blowing, it’s just a few cute moves here and there doing the Bend-And-Snap. What the judges (and America) love about them is the fact that they are large women and they are still sexy. The judges (and producers) put them through so far because it sets a good example for all the little girls out there who want to be like the ACTUAL Pussycat Dolls. But apparently, when hefty ladies put on the same costumes, it isn’t slutty, it’s empowering.

In any case, their performance is same as always: not bad, but they have several out-of-key moments and each bit of choreography is out of unison by a bit. Piers even tells them, “You’re not the best singers in the world,” though of course this matters not to him, as he said of the above with a pillow covering his lap.

Now… we get to Cas Haley and in his intro, he speaks of his wife and says he wants to win “so that Cassie won’t have to work as hard to be the great mother that she is.” Is it possible that this couple is named Cas and Cassie? How hilarious is that? He sets off singing a nice blues song, and does a wonderful job but really, how much can a 20-something who’s married to his high school sweetheart know about the blues? I don’t care though. He still sounds better than anybody else still in this competition.

Looks like a baby who grew a patch of facial hair.

Next we’ve got Terry Fator. What celebrity impression will he do tonight? Liza Minelli? Xtina? Tom Cochran? Nope, he does “Unforgettable,” and actually is pretty unbelievable in his skill. He’s not perfect, but as good as anybody could hope to be while singing through clenched teeth. I am not a fan, per se, of ventriloquism, but I’ve gotta admit this guy is amazing. He tries to make it all look so effortless, but this sort of thing probably takes an immense amount of patience and practice. I can only imagine the kind of patience his wife must have to let him sit in front of the mirror everyday with a goddamn puppet and do celebrity impersonations. Can you imagine her giving a house tour? “And this is where Terry sits with his puppets and does silly voices…”

“Kiss me, you fool!”

Then there’s our little Julienne Irwin, who’s looking good with that new makeover and actually not making me hate her. That is, until she dramatically gestures to the beat with the mic. But, overall, she’s less annoying than ever before!

Blah, blah, mediocre singing… now give me that dress.

We’ve saved the best for last: Sideswipe! I rub my hands together maniacally in anticipation to some nice kicking of ass, possibly some shirt ripping, maybe even some sweat beads and primal roars thrown in for good measure. I can’t wait! In their backstory, one of the dudes says they live by many of the philosophies of the martial arts: discipline, respect, honor, humility. I say, add muscles to that list and you’ve got yourself the philosophies of hotness. Now fast forward through the bullshit and give me some shirt-ripping already.

Wait, what?

The second they bring out the little kids they lose me. I signed up for hot dudes, not Tai Kwon Do kiddies! Piers says, “When an act thinks it’s a good idea to bring out a load of cutesy kids, it always makes me want to puke.” TOTES, Piersy! TOTES. The lead hot dude insists that these are children they teach, and they are damn proud of them, and then goes on to literally quiver with anger and held-back tears while Jerry tells us which number to dial to vote for the kids.

It’s okay, buddy… just calm down.

That’s the final ten, y’all. Personally, I voted for Butterscotch, as usual, because I think that little elfin princess is the only one with truly original yet mass marketable talent in this bunch. Gone are the days of the truly outrageous talentless ones; who can we laugh at now?