Recap: America’s Got Talent: What The Hell??

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

As I look upon last week’s New York episode of “America’s Got Talent,?” all that comes to mind is, “What the hell???” As in, “What the hell is with a show whose title is grammatically frought with error?” and “What the hell is with David Hasselhoff’s attention-whore personality disorder?” and “What the hell is with a recapper who waits six days to give TVGasm readers what they so obviously are dying to read?” and, as my boyfriend so eloquently put it, “What the hell happened to Piers’ balls, man?” Well, fear not, dear readers, O. Snapp is back (though Piers’ balls are still nowhere to be found). Now all I have to wonder is, “Does America Have Talent???”The New York episode of any audition-based reality show is usually the wackiest, craziest and most fun to watch. Yours truly hails from the Empire State, and having had the pleasure last weekend of witnessing the freaky fun that is the Mermaid Parade, I was expecting my fellow New Yorkers to step up to the plate and deliver the most entertaining episode of this Crap Circus that we’ve ever seen.

During the first act, a coupla weight lifters bring out a trunk and set it on stage. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what the trunk will possibly do, and sure enough, after a few seconds of wacky/magical music, the top starts to pop open and out comes this adorable contortionist, who does things that nobody in this audience thought possible.

“OUCHIE!”

Except me. I’m pretty sure I recognize him from a commercial from a few years back?

Just sayin’. I think that’s him. Anyway, he truly is amazing and I wonder what else he could possibly do with his life if not entertain David Hasselhoff. Perhaps he could get a job working for the government in some odd secret-ops kind of capacity. Or he could be like that little Asian guy in the next “Ocean’s Eleven” movie. Maybe there could be a spinoff movie of the little Asian dude and this guy… now THAT would be entertaining. For now, he’ll have to settle for judgement by The Hoff.

Exactly what is he trying to do to himself here?

To Piers’ chagrin, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Hoff vote him through, and I can’t say as I blame them. I mean, it was a pretty captivating act, even though I don’t know whether he’ll beat out all those other folks for a cool mil.

Next up is Abenz, who says he’s “hot like lava, baby” and then mumbles a whole bunch of other stuff I can’t really discern. He’s a rapper, and he and his singing friend are dressed quite dapperly. Unfortunately, Abenz is actually about as hot as your grandma’s cooter. He rhymes “safari” with “Marriott lobby.” I’m not joking.

“Hey, it worked for Snoop and the Holiday Inn.”

His friend was pretty good though, and they ask Byron to come back later without his rapper baggage. Yeah, that fawning over his backup singer was definitely not what Abenz had in mind.

After a short break, we have little miss Sunshine, who looks like the entire decade of the 1960s took some LSD and then threw up all over itself.

“Pardon me, I ate too much peace.”

She attempts to sing “Amazing Grace” and not only does she SUCK, but she fucks up the words too. I’m pretty sure her audition was just a ploy among her and her friends to try to stick it to the man.

Let’s pool our money together and get her some contacts, whaddaya say?

I wish I could have seen more of what this guy had to offer.

… especially because he echoed my sentiment of today and said “What the hell?” when they told him he wouldn’t go to Vegas. Man, old people who curse really crack my shit up.

Next we have Odysy, a little boy band who gets the requisite walking-in-slow-motion montage. I automatically know I’m supposed to like them. But I don’t like much of anything, so I’m not gonna hold my breath.

They get up on stage and do a combination of beatboxing and singing one of my favorite songs, “Real Love” by Mary J. Blige. I am shocked when I actually get goose bumps watching them. They’re like a Boyz II Men for the new generation, plus they make their own beats. They’re tight, they get the audience going, and I believe they’re pretty awesome. It’s obvious they’ll get through.

Right?

Um, well, Piers says they don’t have good enough voices, Sharon says none of them has enough of a lead vocal talent (um, that’s why they’re A GROUP) and Hoff basically says “Eh.” What??? Fuck off, judges!

Luckily, they barely make it through, thanks to Sharon’s unending naïve faith in everyone alive.

Next is a gentleman who tells a lot of black jokes and New Orleans refugee jokes. He’s pretty funny, but I think he could have gotten a little more well-rounded with his material.

Hoff is so easy to please.

After that we’ve got the Hooker Sisters, who butcher an Alicia Keys song not by singing terribly, but by each singing the same exact notes at the same exact (slow) pace. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s just stereo surround sound, not harmony.

Way to keep it classy, New York.

They beg for a second chance, but the judges properly tell them that if they gave them a second chance, it wouldn’t be fair to the other auditioners. Kindergarten logic comes in handy yet again!

This dude is called Sexy Techno Boy, and in his mind, he is the greatest talent in America.

He must be. He’s surrounded by stars.

He as aspirations of becoming a (singing/dancing/composing/songwriting/producing) superstar in Europe for his unique beats and dancing/singing abilities. His inspiration comes from Madonna, Janet Jackson, and “a lot of glow-stick ravers.” Totally awesome, man. Ravers are so cool these days. Wait, what do you mean it’s not 1998 anymore?

Yet, when he does his thang, he pretty much just seems like a kid who locks himself in his room and loses himself in the music every night by himself. He doesn’t sing so much as speak his music, once in awhile saying “STOP!” and keeps his eyes down while he’s dancing. That’s not superstar behavior!

STOP!

He’s giving me daymares of my crazy neighbors who blast techno music at three in the morning. I hate those bitches. I want this kid to fail.

In judging, the Hoff actually says something accurate and observant. He tells STB that he’s like, when you go to a club and you really want to dance, but there’s always that kid on the dance floor who’s like, in his own little world, so nobody wants to go on the floor with him? STB says yeah, that’s him alright. At least he admits it!

This is the point where I wonder what’s going to happen to these people who get rejected? Like, what will Sexy Techno Boy do with his life if his dream is something for which he has absolutely no ability? What will he end up doing with his life?

Well, it’s about time for our weekly Inspirational Story. We’ve got this kid Lazy Legs, who has a rare disorder that makes the muscles in his legs very small. Of course his dream is to be a dancer.

He’s got some backups, and together they’re called Illmatic Styles. Usually I hope for someone to fall down or trip onstage or something ridiculous so we can laugh at them, but even O. Snapp has some semblance of a heart in this case. I want them to kill, and kill they do! All hearts are warmed as Lazy Legs enthusiastically breaks it down and shows the audience how to boogie. Yes, boogie.

Shake it! Shake what your doctor gave ya!

I definitely couldn’t do this. Kudos, Lazy Legs.

Everyone is impressed and oh you KNOW they get through to Vegas!

How to follow up on that but with a reverend who likes to play with knives?

Plus his appropriately accessorized assistant.

He’s got a partner with so much trust in him that I’m pretty sure she’s fucked up in the head. I think we can all agree to that, right? Who else would choose this as a profession? The entire audience, the judges, and I are all on the edge of our seats as we watch this double-blindfolded psycho throw knives at his woman.

I can’t even count all the things that are wrong with this picture, Reverend.

Piers tries to X them out just because he’s a-scared for her life. Although… it would be good television if she got accidentally stabbed, no?

The next group is sure to be hi-LA-rious.

I think these are my dad’s fishing buddies?

I just love the orange shirt. They’re called the Three Redneck Tenors and they’ve got a good attitude. They want to make people laugh, while using the voices with which they’ve been blessed, while bringing wholesome music to the people. Eh, that’s cool, I’ll go with that.

Can we say HOTTIE?!

Surprisingly, they are from Dallas (uh, why didn’t they just audition IN DALLAS?) and even more surprisingly, they have beautiful voices. I imagine they all have 9-to-5 jobs and wives and kids and they somehow just practice this in their garage. It’s pretty cool. I don’t know what I’d do if I found out my dad did this in his spare time.

They get through (naturally) and after a ridiculous hand-farting act and a comedian who concedes by admitting, “You can’t make everyone happy; you should know that, David” (HA! YES! Zing!), plus no less than three people ripping on the Hoff’s (lack of) talent (including Piers himself), we are blessed with the presence of Leonid, who was in last year’s auditions and obviously didn’t get through.

Now THAT’S New York.

He is accompanied by two freaky women, and together they make the scariest threesome I could possibly ever imagine.

Although, really, what’s not to love?

His act consists of throwing his women down and the three of them sort of dancing, sort of reenacting some kind of S&M sex act with chains, cartwheels and juggling, all to some sweet techno beats. You know, your basic Saturday night.

A sex nightmare come to life.

His headdress is toppled over upon completion of the act, and his two lovely ladies fall down and try to make it look like part of the act. It’s horrendous, and would be terrifying if it weren’t so ridiculous.

Hasselhoff repeats, “NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.” Leonid responds by saying he will never give up his dreams, and tells the Hoff to “go to hell. I know who I am.”

He hangs his head in humility, then Sharon tells him she gives him a “Yes.”

Well, that perked him right up!

Piers says it was “oddly enjoyable.” Uh-oh. Don’t even do this, Piers. Are you serious? Piers actually puts this guy through to the next round. WHAT THE HELL??? Uh, I don’t have anything against freaky people or anything, in fact I thought he was quite entertaining, but… in a funny way, not in a real way. Does Piers really expect this guy to go head-to-head with that douchey country singer from last week and win? I think Piers just did it to piss off the Hoff.

It works, because this causes David to storm offstage, as he tends to do, and refuse to come out of his dressing room. What a fucking baby. Is he so starved for attention that he needs to have the halfway point focus every episode? You know, the part of the show that breaks up hours 1 and 2 by giving us some drama. Where is Piers’ drama episode? This is Hasselhoff’s second Halfway Focus in a row! Pretty unfair, if you ask me.

He “threatens to quit the show,” which we all know is total bullshit, because there’s this little thing in the biz called a contract that won’t let that happen. Come on, producers, we’re onto you. Indeed, it was all just a ploy for attention, because the Hoff waits until the audience is chanting his name (barf) until he advises to the at-home audience, “Hassle the Piers, DON’T HASSLE THE HOFF!” before running onstage to his adoring fans.

Don’t worry, his ego has been revived! Thank God.

Next is Julia, who is 14 and has never been on an audition or even to a singing lesson. “Maybe this is what I’m supposed to do,” she says “humbly.” “Maybe this is God telling me this is my path.” So, by you traveling from Maryland to New York and waiting behind thousands of other people to have a chance to audition, that’s GOD giving you a sign? I’m pretty sure your own mind had something to do with it too.

She sings a damn Leann Rimes song, and although she’s not God-awful, she’s not astounding or anything. I suppose any normal person would call it mediocre. She gets off-key here and there, and I predict that the judges will tell her she’s just not ready. Because she obviously isn’t.

Not to mention that makeover she needs.

To my utter surprise, they fall all over themselves to tell her how great and how talented she is. “WHAT??” I yell at the TV. “Give me a fucking break!!” When she gets through to the next round, I wonder what ever happened to the Piers who used to have standards? The Piers who loved to crush people’s dreams? I miss that Piers! Bring him back! Get this pussy off my television.

Let’s go from young innocent lame-o to a pair of geriatric lame-os.

This old guy Jay and his woman, from an unidentified foreign country, do a little juggling/belly-dancing act to Billy Ocean’s “Caribbean Queen.” It must hold a lot of sentimental value, because I’m pretty sure the last time that song was popular was the last time this couple had sex.

They’re cute and all, but he drops his shit a couple of times and come on. Billy Ocean? X them out.

“No more love on the run…”

Thoth, our next love, is what he calls a “pray-former.” To me he looks like what I always pictured when I used to read that book “The Indian In The Cupboard.”

A talent of Thothic proportions

Despite my nostalgic affection for the character, this guy has far less charisma and although he does a truly different act (violin/opera/feet cymbals), it’s definitely not what the judges and audience want to see.

Okay, so, I was wrong. THESE guys are the next Boyz II Men.

“Motown Philly’s back again…”

They are pretty well-rehearsed, but the lead guy’s voice is strained and at some points he sounds like he’s just shouting or whispering, no tone to his voice at all. Again, mediocre. Piers, don’t let me down now.

No luck. Piers says they dress well (true), behave well (true), and sing well (not true). They let them through and I can’t believe it! All you have to do in this competition is have a second-rate singing voice? I’m auditioning next season. I could really use a million bucks right about now.

Next is an adorable little kid who sings with his Grampie.

AWWWWW! You know your heart’s melting.

He sings with that rough, old-timey voice to match his Newsies outfit. I bet when he and his Grandpa rehearse together it’s just precious. But although he is a cutie, again, not that talented. I mean, he’s like 10 years old. What do you know? They put him straight through. Where’s Cowell when you need him? You are no Cowell, Piers. No Cowell at all.

Also unremarkable were a “talking” bunny and yet another illusionist. This is getting pretty boring. But then we have a promising returner, Byron, who left his rapper behind and is now auditioning on his own. Was there ever any doubt he’d get through?

I think he’s happy about it.

Last but certainly not least, we have the Plus-Size Pussycat Dolls.

Where’s Anastacia?

Okay, they’re actually called the Glamazons, and listen. They LOVE their bodies and all of the talents that God gave them, and they are NOT afraid to show it, girlfriend! The editors show us a bunch of black guys that are definitely interested in their bodies. I have nothing against that, I’m just sayin’, they showed us seven guys, and none of them were white. Why is that? Or should I say, What the hell?

They are beautiful though, and when they come on stage, Hassehoff says, “The Pussycat Dolls! I love that show!” Holla! The Pussycat Dolls show has now exceeded its own pop group.

Their performance is entertaining enough, though it’s not like they actually dance like the Pussycat Dolls or anything. They sing okay and to me it’s all one big shoulder shrug. I’ve seen better.

Shake it, babies. Shake ALL of it.

Luckily for these Big Pussies, Piers says he’s the kind of bloke who loves the larger ladies. May I just say, EW. EW EW and one more EW! I do not have any interest in knowing Piers Morgan’s sexual preferences. Whatsoever. None. Let’s just move on.

True to mediocre form, the judges let them through to the next round and that’s it for the New York auditions. That was pretty disappointing. There was really only one freak on this episode (unless you count the Hoff) and I think I can speak for all of us when I say I’m tired of stupid or average acts getting through and good ones being told they’re not ready. Also I’m sick of these silly little producer-arranged outbursts from the judges. In fact, I REFUSE TO GO ON. I’m getting up from my judge’s seat and I won’t be back for TWO WEEKS! Take that, Hasselhoff!

Oh wait, before I go, though, aren’t these screengrabs awesome?

So, Hoff, how’d that eye lift work out for ya?

“Abra… ca DABRA!”

I feel the same way, Sharon. I do.