The night begins with a solitary image: a beanpole cloaked in darkness. Yes, Ryan Seacrest greets us in front of a shadowy, mysterious background. Hmm... I wonder if the lights will suddenly come up and reveal the audience? Just as it does every year. Sure enough, that's exactly what happens, and the crowd reacts with exhilaration. It's like one massive game of peekaboo. Ryan yells, "THIS is American Idol," which is good because for a second there, I thought I was watching The Sopranos. OF COURSE IT'S AMERICAN IDOL.

The credits roll and then we see our first dollops of celebrities for the night. Why, there's Mandy Moore, star of Idol satire, American Dreamz! And look! Who goes there? It's Ben Stiller, looking angry and simian. He seems to be hiding behind a pleasant looking Muslim girl. George Bush has already called her in for questioning.

"They can see me!"

We then see the judges. Randy looks the same as usual. Paula seems to be wearing the sartorial version of a deconstructed rainbow, and Simon is wearing... a blazer! Wow. Very classy. If only his dark t-shirt underneath were a turtleneck. Then he'd be the perfect Blacksploitation movie villain.

"I'll get you, Foxy Brown!"

Ryan asks the judges if they have any words of advice. Randy says it's "now or never." Paula babbles about something incoherent. Simon suggests that each singer prays that the other one forgets their lyrics. Polite laughter all around. Let's just get on with the show. Ah, but before we can get to singing, Ryan tells us that we're going to watch each of the finalists' journeys -- which means a montage set to, you guessed it, Journey! Get it? Journey?? Oh, American Idol. You're a pistol!

We then watch the sappy video segment, and I can't help thinking, "Is Taylor really in the finals?" I mean, look, his enthusiasm and passion are great, he's consistently very good, and he's an amusing entertainer -- for my parents. But let's be honest. The guy's going to churn out some junk for Lite-FM, and then it's off to the cruise ships and obscure casinos in the middle of Nevada (Primm comes to mind).

After the montage ends, we go to commercial, and when we return, Ryan appears in the audience. He enthusiastically hugs Chris Daughtry, relishing the brief moment when neck touches neck, soul touches soul. All Ryan feels is the firm yet gentle embrace of Chris's man muscles, his swelling biceps clutching his body, enveloping him with the delicate touch of Aphrodite's finger tips. It all happens so fast, and yet, for Ryan, each second is a breathless eternity. The heart skips a beat, a bead of sweat appears on the brow, and deep, hidden impulses surge. In that instance, Ryan feels complete.

Love lift us up where we belong...