OK this has got to be the goofiest episode of Idol this season! I laughed tonight, seriously. Between Ryan on speed, Paula on acid, and more than half of the contestants on some unidentified narcotics, this has got to be one of my favourite shows this season.
So first of all, I’d like to inform all of you that there will be no sex in this “recap”, because we don’t have time. Not even for a quickie, because we’re that much in a rush.
Seriously, I stopped taking notes at the end, because so much stuff was happening, I said “Fuck it, I’ll re-watch it online”. I don’t even mind re-watching it, because it was that funny.
In fact, I should just post the whole show here, and let you re-watch it, but, as I mentioned in my previous post, (the one that has nothing to do with idol, and all to do with crazy-ass thrill rides in Las Vegas), messing around with pictures and videos, given that there is a new bug with WordPress, turned out to be a right pain in the ass, so I’ll just go back to my old method of “recapping” using too many words, and a couple of links, instead of playing around with HTML some more.
American Idol 7 “recap” – Top 6!!!
7.55 PM, my apartment. I’m sitting in front of the computer, laughing at the sudden onslaught of new threads on IMDb, when there is a knock coming from the inside of the TV. Ryan.
“Hi Rebel, I just quickly dropped by to say that tonight, I won’t be able to chat with you during the show, nor will I be able to pleasure you again, as I’m sure you’ve been dreaming of ever since you published your last “recap” at 5am this morning.
I would also like to know if you have a dollar bill, or bigger, than I can borrow.
Rebel Without A Clue: Hi Ryan, how’s it hanging? You look stressed out, what’s the matter?
Ryan: The matter? 10 songs, 42 minutes, and Paula dropped two blotters around 7.15. This is gonna be another show from hell. On the upside, we got security to prevent the Dancing With The Stars people to come in and trash the studio, since there is no frigging way we’ll finish on time.
Rebel Without A Clue: Why shouldn’t you? Ten songs under 10 minutes, that’s 20, 12 of judges not judging, that’s 32. it still gives you 10 minutes to say hello, good-bye, chat with the contestants, read their numbers, and plug ITunes. You’ll be alright.
Ryan: you don’t understand, Rebel. Brooke is on speed.
Rebel Without A Clue: What Brooke is on… What?
Ryan: Long story. Which I’ll start by saying this: thank you in advance Rebel, this night from hell, I owe it to you. Up until last Wednesday night, the contestants were going to sing one song each tonight. but thanks to you and your goofy plot lines, Nigel decided to make that two, so that I wouldn’t have time to fuck around. He didn’t take too well to the bouts of spontaneous fornication, featuring me, that you inserted in your last “recap”.
And he wasn’t crazy about the drugs either.
Rebel Without A Clue: What drugs?
Ryan: Jason’s killer weed, the one that everyone but me and Simon got high and idiotic on.
Rebel Without A Clue: Weed isn’t drugs. But speed is. What’s the deal with Brooke?
Ryan: Jason received speed in his latest fan mail, but he doesn’t touch uppers, because he says they wake him up. And when I found out that I’d have to host the show from hell, all thanks to you, I asked Jason if I could borrow it, just in case things got too hectic, just to give me a little lift. I’m exhausted dude. All week, I’ve had to learn how to speed read, since I know that tonight, they’ll be rolling the teleprompter very fast.
Then, because Jason is an untidy twat, he left his whiz lying about, and Brooke used half of it to put in her herbal tea, thinking it was sweetener. So now, I KNOW that things will get hectic, and that I WILL need a lift.
Which leads me to the dollar bill. I need it to snort my speed.
Rebel Without A Clue: I live in Canada, Ryan, we don’t have dollar bills. But I can give you a loony if you want.
Ryan: What’s a loony? Another judge?
Rebel Without A Clue: A loony is a nice shiny golden coin, which is worth one Canadian dollar. That’s like two American dollars.
Ryan: What do you want me to do with change? Do you guys have five dollar bills? I’ll give it back to you at the end of the show, promise. No hassling for sex, nothing.
Rebel Without A Clue: Will a twenty do? How come you don’t have any cash, anyway? Don’t they pay you millions for this gig?
Ryan: Taxes. I’m not rich enough to get a tax-break. Why do you think I work six jobs simultaneously? Oh, thanks for the twenty. OK, I have to run, I can hear Brooke telling Jason that it’s okay and that hippies rule. I think she’s starting buzzing, I better go and gag her or something. I’ll catch you after the show, give you back your money.
Rebel Without A Clue: Oh, don’t worry about it Ryan, tomorrow’s alright. I’ll be here for the results show.
OK well, good luck, and hang in there, buddy! And go easy on that stuff, otherwise you’ll be up all night, and tomorrow, you’ll regret it, when you’ll find yourself looking for interesting things to say about ITunes for twenty minutes.
Ryan: I’ll go and dance it off at some rave with Paula, if I’m too hyper after the show. Well, enjoy Rebel, catch ya later!
Ladies and gentlemen, this.
Good evening, and welcome to the speediest show on Earth, Am…
Rebel Without A Clue: Pssst…! Ry…!
Ryan: Rebel, I told you not t…
Rebel Without A Clue: The speed. Under your nose. I can see it. And I don’t have HD.
Ryan: Oh shit, thanks. Anything else?
Rebel Without A Clue: Yeah, your fly’s open. G’night, Ryan!
Ryan You, I’ll…
So America, tonight, we’re gonna have to hurry up, because we have little time, few contestants, but illogically enough, more songs than we did a month ago. So let’s get to it. Jason, you’re up.
Jason: But, dude, you haven’t even rolled the credits yet!
Ryan: Damn, that is true. Can I start again? You’ve let Brooke restart last week, so it’s only fair. Plus I’m not even a contestant. OK? Good.
America, do you remember that super-dramatic show from last week? This one isn’t going to be like that. This one is going to be past-paced, like a Bruce Willis movie.
And talking about Bruce Willis, let’s meet the contestants, shall we? This is Brooke, who fucked up last week, and is buzzing even more than me right now. And I just want to tell you, America, that some of these folks right here, are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. That dramatic show from last week, totally took its toll on the mental health of “some people”, besides Brooke, which it kinda turned normal. And we’re still all reeling from last’s week’s terrible tragedy, and we’d like to all together say hi to our Irish clover whom we lost last week. Hi Carly! Hi Tattooman!
Ok, moving along. Judges, what did you think?
Randy: About what?
Jason: You still haven’t rolled the credits, dude.
Ryan is seen, not discreetly enough, popping a couple of sleeping pills into his mouth, to calm himself down a little, then we go and salute the judges.
Ryan Hi Randy, hi Paula and hi Simon.
Bye Randy, bye Paula and bye Simon.
I’ll see you at the end of the show. I can’t talk to you right now, and you can’t talk to me either, otherwise we’ll run out of time. Contestants, where are you? Come here, quick, say hello, and then go, quick.
The idols enter on one side, swiftly jog across the stage, smiling and waving, then exit at the other end.
Ryan: America, tonight, we have two phone lines for each of the contestants, so that hopefully, the thirty-five of you who still watch the show can vote twice faster, and tomorrow, I’ll have twice more trouble explaining why the number of votes increases in the same proportion that the ratings decrease.
And now, let me introduce to you Neil Diamond, who sold 120 million albums, and had more than a dozen #1 hits, and who […] new CD in May.
(Ryan was talking so fast during the Neil Diamond bio, that I wasn’t able to take notes, sorry. But you can always Google it, if you’re a Neil fan. 🙂 )
Now, we’re in the rehearsal room with with Neil Diamond and the Idols, who all look super-nervous, and super-awkward and super-stiff and scared shitless. They’re all standing in a tight little group, refusing to move to the other side of the grand piano that is shielding them from the ever so menacing Neil Diamond.
Neil: So what? Are you going to say hi? Would you like to learn some songs? Cat got your tongue?
Neil: Oh, come on, for Christ’s sake. You, the tough guy, with the funny hair, come and shake my hand.
My David: I… I’d rather not… I have this cold, you see, it’s…
Brooke: It’s okay David, I’ll do it. Hi, I’m Brooke.
Brooke extends a trembling hand across the piano. Then Neil shakes it. Then she takes it back and looks at it. Then she turns around towards the other idols, and they all huddle up for a couple of seconds, and whisper stuff that the microphone didn’t pick up.
Then they all walk around the piano to greet Neil Diamond, all: “Hey, Sir, how are you doing, we’re the Idols, we’re sorry, we thought you were KING Diamond, the bastard child of Gene Simmons and Alice Cooper, and that you would have a bad influence on us. We’ve all had to convert to Christianity after last week’s depravity festival, and now, we have to stay pure and keep away from anything that could be even remotely fun. Which is so not you.”
Brooke: None of this is true, we are just like, very nervous to song your sings.
Neil Diamond: I am looking forward to hear you songing my sings, and I’m sure you will all be great. Somewhere, in a parallel universe. in another dimension. A year or two from now. Oh, my God, do we have a lot of work to do…! OK, let’s not dilly-dally, then, and let’s get to it right now. You, with the rope wig on your head, come here. Everyone else, out.
And learn your lyrics. If one of you messes up this Tuesday, there will be no re-starting. Simon told me they moved the trapdoor that used to be below the Losers’ Stools to the middle of the stage. A good idea if you ask me. You all will have two songs to sing, and that could mean a very long night for those of us who have to listen. So it could be an effective way to speed things up, and save you some embarrassment, should you forget the lyrics, or, worse, the song altogether, Brooke.
So I don’t mean to put pressure on you or anything, but remember that trapdoor. Mess up, and you’re going down.
OK, pep talk over, everyone out, except rope-boy. What are you going sing? Can you take off that wig? it’s really distracting.
Jason: No, no, dude, I grew that myself! Pretty cool, huh?
Neil Diamond: It’s interesting, but can’t you just grow hair, like almost everyone else?
Jason: Hair’s too conventional, man, and I’m not a conventional guy. And to prove it, I’m gonna take the lyrics of your second song, and sing them on the melody of the first song, whilst playing the flute.
Neil Diamond: The fl… What? Are you high?
Jason: As a matter of fact, yes. I’m high on life, baby!!!
Nah, I’m not, I was just kidding. I’m like, totally high on this excellent California grass, called “Green Diamond”. In fact, when we walked in here, I personally thought it was to score some more of it, because I’m running out. Do you smoke too?
Neil Diamond: No I don’t. What I do is sing, and I suggest you do the same, because I haven’t got all day, and I have a funny feeling that working with the others isn’t going to be much more inspiring than working with you. So what I suggest is that you shut up, get a haircut, and sing: “Forever in Blue Jeans” and “September Morn”, in this order, and the way they were originally written, composed, sung, and arranged. Just learn the lyrics, learn the melody, try to put both together, and once you know it, do exactly the same things in the same order with the second song. Got it? Here are your lyrics, now leave, and send in the shifty-looking guy with the funny hair and the guitar.
Jason heads for the door, which doesn’t open. Neil says: “Other door”, and Jason exits. Neil looks into the camera, and says: “I have faith in him. I don’t really have the choice now, do I?”
Jason is back to his good old comfort zone, behind his guitar. I believe there is a good chance that Neil Diamond will be Jason’s cup of tea. It’s actually OK, although I find there is quite a big contrast between his low and his high register, and they don’t gel all that well. And his lower register really isn’t that strong. It’s alright, but really nothing to write home about.
Randy opens his mouth to talk, but Ryan runs on the stage like a demon: “NO! We don’t have the time! I forgot to tell you guys before, but I wasn’t kidding earlier on, when I was saying that we’d talk to you three wankers at the end of the show. We’re in a rush tonight, and we don’t have time to ask for your input after each performance, so take notes, and after everyone’s gone up, I’ll give you each 5 seconds to say whether you found the performance good, bad, or pitchy. What, Dawg, do you want to say something?
Randy: Yeah, Ryan, can you tell your “recapper” that I’ve ditched the term “pitchy”, and will be going with “in the zone” instead, for the time being? I hate that Rebel person, so I want to give her more characters to type.
Ryan: Will do. OK, quick, who’s up next?
Jason: Ryan, do you have a second to read my number please?
Ryan: Oh, yeah, sorry about that. There you go Jason, read it yourself, because I don’t have time. I have to get ready for David Cook.
Ryan goes off to meet with my David -who looks like a million bucks tonight, if I may say- in front of the nauseating Coke backdrop, for a sit-down and chat, so that poor Ryan can catch his breath.
Ryan: So, David Cook, the rocker guy… How did you you prepare for tonight?
My David: Ryan, I think we’re supposed to go to commercial now.
Ryan: I… Yes, we do. Let’s go to commercial.
Rebel? Rebel, are you here? Talk to me, I’m going nuts.
Rebel Without A Clue: Ryan, don’t talk to me, you’re driving me nuts.
Ryan: What have I done? I’m hosting the show from hell!
Rebel Without A Clue: And I’m trying to take notes for the show from hell. It’s only ten past, and I already have six pages and cramps in my hand. This is like watching TV in fast-forward.
Ryan: I’m panicking Rebel, I keep screwing up. I’m starting to feel like I can relate to Brooke: we’re both losers on speed. And I’ve lost my cue cards. I don’t even know who’s on next.
Rebel Without A Clue: David Cook is on next. And I caught a glimpse of him and Brooke making silly faces at the camera, before you guys went to commercial, so I’d say she’s on right after him.
Ryan: It’s OK, it’s OK, I can do this, I’m so sorry, I…
Rebel Without A Clue: Ryan, stop. You’re turning into Brooke. Relax. You can do this. David Cook is next, then Brooke. Just remember to read their numbers after they’re done, to not make eye contact with any of the judges, and to breathe. You can do this, Ry. So go get them!
Ryan Yes, I can do this! Thanks Rebel! I can do this!
We’re back on American idol, and we’re talking with David Cook. David, how did you prepare for tonight?
My David: Ryan, how did YOU prepare for tonight?
Ryan: Oh, please David, don’t fuck with me tonight, man. You are not funny.
My David: Ryan, don’t worry, Nigel gave me a break-down of the show, and I have your cue cards, so let me handle this for now, and take a few minutes to calm down, because you seem really stressed out.
Ryan: Oh boy, that is an understatement, my friend. And I appreciate your help. So basically, I prepared for tonight by getting drunk all week, because it’s been a very stressful last seven days. We had the super-dramatic Andrew Lloyd Webber show last week, which left everybody in a fragile mental state, then we lost Carly, I learned to speed-read, I lost my virginity, and for the first time, I’m losing my shit on live television…
My David: Tell me about Carly. I so miss her, man. I’m totally running out of friends on this show. First Aussie Mike, then her. I offered Jason to Google him some cool arrangements, to ensure that he would stick around, but surprisingly he said no. He said he thought goofing around, testing the judges patience and pushing the boundaries of mediocrity was a lot more fun. I think he knows he’s not gonna win, so my guess he’s that he’s just experimenting with how long he coast on his show, based uniquely on his irresistible charm.
And so far, I must say it’s working. But enough about Jason, let’s talk about me for a while. Can you please roll the clip of Neil and I? Thank you!
My David and his guitar walk in the rehearsal room, totally prepared. “Hi Mr. Diamond, my name is David Cook, and after not too many hours of research, I dug out two songs of you that I bet even you don’t remember hearing, let alone writing. They are called I’m Alive” and “All I Really Need Is You”. I’ve ran them through my “unknown songs that could easily pass for originals if you run them through this generator” generator, and this is the result. (My David plays his two songs, back to back.)
What do you think?
Neil Diamond: I got goosebumps, and between you and I, you don’t need this show my friend. Try to get out at the Top 3. Top 2 max. For your own good, just don’t try to win this thing, because you have talent. Get a decent haircut, and on to glory!
My David: Wow, awesome! You can read minds! I’m exactly on the same wavelength as you. My original plan was to get to kicked out the week after Jason, by re-doing the song that got Jason kicked out in the first place, because it will have to REALLY stink. Let’s face it, the guy isn’t even trying, and he’s still here. So I was counting on him to provide me with a Idol-proof song, one that would send me home no questions asked. And look at last week…! So my strategy might not work, and maybe I’ll just have to take it upon myself to just walk out of this show of my own free will.
But it’s still mysterious to me though… Do you think these hippies use some special techniques to repeatedly escape elimination like this? Like hypnosis or something?
Neil Diamond: Beats me David, beats me… But I can try to find out. Send me the blonde next, I’ll try to wrestle some answers out of her. And David, you are great; you have the right voice, the right attitude, the right material, the right work ethics, and the wrong haircut, unfortunately, but that can be fixed in twenty minutes. Think about it. Regardless, good luck for Tuesday night.
My David: Thanks you very much Sir, good day!
Back on the stage, Ryan has his nose in a paper bag and is breathing heavily. My David casually walks to the centre of the stage, guitar hanging on his side, and grabs the mike:
“Could we please have a glass of ice water, and a wet towel for Ryan please? And bring him backstage, where he can chat with his “recapper”, she seems to have a soothing effect on him. And Brooke, get ready, you’re up next. I will be singing a version of “I’m Alive”, which I’ve ran through my “make a song sound like cheesy 80s hard-rock!” generator. Here goes.”
Here goes not a heck of a lot if you ask me. It does sound like an cheesy 80s FM radio, wannabe rock song. I don’t know the original, but I’m sure it’s better than this. I’ve never been a fan of those 80s “rock” bands, who had more hair spray in their music than actual guitars, and this is not helping their cause, nor my David’s. It picks up in the chorus, but I’m not jumping up and down. In fact, I’m not doing anything, besides taking notes furiously. This show is fucking exhausting.
Nah, this didn’t do for me, but man, is he smoking tonight, or what!!! Yowser!!! Why can’t he be one of the dozens of single dudes who roam around the Barfly, dammit? He’d love it there, there’s live music every night, all styles, there are “drink slingers”, and hockey, and… Jeopardy! A word nerd should love Jeopardy, right? Move to Montreal, David Cook, I’ll show you a good time, and lots of “sight seeing”! If you read this and are interested, please email me, and I’ll come to meet you at the airport and buy a bottle of wine.
(SPORTS UPDATE: Oh, fuck, you guys, the Habs have lost. Again. 4-2. Third in a row, this isn’t good. If we lose the next one, it’s bye-bye playoffs. Shit.
NEWS UPDATE: If you live in the region of Maniwaki, Quebec, and see a lion walking about, do not worry, it’s perfectly normal. Someone just happened to have lost one yesterday. Don’t worry, it’s tame; however, if it stays in the wild, it won’t be for long. If you see it, email me, or you can also contact CTV news. Thanks you.)
I’m sorry, there’s been a very annoying buzzing sound in my apartment since yesterday, and I have the TV on so that it doesn’t drive me nuts. Problem is, it’s distracting, especially goofy stories like a 150lbs lion roaming in Maniwaki, Quebec.
Back to idol, Ryan is reading my David’s number, while my David is holding the cue cards in front of him.
My David: Are you gonna be OK, buddy?
Ryan: No problem, dude, t’ was a pleasure. Here are your cue cards, and this is where we’re at. Brooke’s up next, then you say “ITunes”, and it’s straight to commercial.
Ryan: Got it. Thanks again. How is Brooke, anyway? Not too speedy?
My David: She’s acting surprisingly normal, actually. She talks too much, but she always talks too much anyway. But no, she’s alright. She climbed up a bunch of times to the catwalk, where the lights are, but without using the ladder, just to relax a bit, and she may have smashed Jason’s guitar, but otherwise she seems fine.
Ryan: OK then, roll her clip!
Brooke walks into the rehearsal room, hand out, to shake Neil’s, all: “Hi, I’m Brooke, are you a hugger or a shaker?”, all the while squeezing his knuckles, which are, by now, white.
Neil Diamond: I was a shaker, up until now. But from now on, count me as a hugger.
So they exchange this hug which is awkward, like most of what Brooke says or does. Then Brooke explains her plans: “I was thinking of playing two instruments tonight, the piano, and the guitar, both at once. Then after David Cook told me that it wasn’t physiologically, nor mathematically, nor more five-syllable-words-ly, possible, I figured I’d just play one at the time. It’s less original, but probably safer. So I was thinking about doing ?”I Am I Said” and “I’m a Believer”, and a…
Neil Diamond: Do you always talk this much?
Brooke: Pretty much, yeah. I got it from my mum. And the hair too. She…
Neil Diamond: That’s all very nice and good, but we have work to do. And you didn’t pick the easiest songs, too. That ain’t gonna be no picnic, since what I heard ab…
Brooke: It will be okay. Trust me, I know, simply because unless I actually forget the whole song, it won’t be worse than last week, where I found myself wishing that I was simply called “reminiscent of a hotel lounge, or a cruise-ship performance”. But no. Do you know what Simon called me, Neil? A hamburger bun. Yes. That HURT, Neil. Plus do you know what they put in those hamburger buns, Neil? SUGAR. Yes. These white hamburger buns are made of 75%of sugar, 20% of flour, and 5% of salt. Why would Simon compare me to something as vile as a wh…
Neil Diamond: OK. Please. Please. Stop. Play your songs, and just get out. I’ll email you your feedback. I’m just going to say one thing to you, and I want you to listen, without interrupting, OK? So now, close your mouth, and listen closely.
The song where I sing about New-York, because I’m a new-Yorker? Find a way to change “New-York” into “Arizona”, since you’re Arizonian. It might not rhyme very well, but it will come across as more authentic. Now play, and then go, without saying a word.
Brooke appears with her guitar, flared jeans, big-but-not-too-big-hair, and big-big loop earrings, and her not-that-big-at-all voice, and the fact that she does the first half of the song in her low register, which is even weaker than her high register, isn’t helping her much. She goes “Whoo!” at some point, and this brings back lovely memories of a Yellow overkill, but without the silly twirl, it’s not as good or funny as the first time around. When she puts some power into it, it’s a bit better, but still not all that great. Not even that good, really. Bland is pretty much what it is, for pretty much the third time in a row. Blah.
The judges are seen, smiling.
Ryan gets the mike stand out of Brooke’s way, and reads her number. Then, we head to commercial.
Rebel Without A Clue: Ryan? Are they cutting down on staff?
Ryan: The mike-stand, you mean? No we have roadies, as well a gofer and cleaning people, but I’m so hyper, I sent them all home, and I fill their their duties during the performances. Half of the dressing-rooms are already spotless, and I have a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. Do you need anything done, like laundry or something?
Rebel Without A Clue: Ryan, I sooo wish you were here, I have heaps of laundry. But unfortunately, as my David said, it’s a physiological impossibility.
Ryan: Not if I borrow Nigel’s private jet. And maybe, there are other things I could do for you, like…
Rebel Without A Clue: Ryan. Focus. No sex tonight, at all; no doing it, no discussing it.
Ryan: I didn’t mean THAT. Geez, Rebel, you have such a dirty mind. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything anyway. This speed is a libido-killer, last time I ever take it… Oh, shit, ITunes, I forgot. Gotta go. Later, Rebel!
Rebel Without A Clue: Hey, thank Brooke for using half of your stash as sweetener, otherwise, you’d be orbiting around the Earth right now… Ryan?
But Ryan is already on the idol stage, holding Wittle David by the back of the neck, saying: “America, if you’d like to own a piece of Archuleta, go on ITunes after we’re done cutting him into wittle bits, which should be available for download at around 9.30, and which you can then resell on EBay, and make a profit.
This is the bit where Wittle David meets big scary Neil Diamond. Neil has to chase him around the piano a few times, before he can catch up with him and say: “Hey! What’s up with you? Why are you crying?
Wittle David: I’m under an enormous amount of pressure, *sniffles*, because I need to do all the following all at once: transmit a message of eternal love, peace, and happiness, be entertaining, while making people cry, and mention God without really mentioning Him, and make an impression on both the judges and my dad. And you, of course.
Neil Diamond: No instruments for you? Like, you didn’t plan to sing while playing the trumpet and the accordion all at once?
Wittle David : No…
Neil Diamond: Are you as malleable and spineless as I suspect you are?
Wittle David: I guess so… Well, I sure hope so, anyway.
Neil Diamond: Per-fect. I love you. You’ll do “Sweet Caroline” and “America”, and you’ll be awesome, you’ll see. America will love “America”, I promise. It sure worked for that wannabe top 24 blonde with whom, against all odds, you’ll be going on tour with.
Wittle David: But…
Neil Diamond: Darling, shut up. I’ll pimp you as a prodigy even if you stink, OK? Just do exactly what I tell you, and if it doesn’t work out on stage, blame it all on me. It’s a win-win situation for you; either you blow them out of their socks, either you don’t and then Idol will love you because you’ll fit perfectly into their mould of competitors who always do everything they’re told without ever asking any questions. They love people like that, and they already love you, so basically, you’ve won this thing. Now run along, and remember, just do exactly what I told you, and you’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve been in this business a long time.
Wittle David: Thanks Mr. Diamond, bye Mr. Diamond!
Neil Diamond turns to the camera: ” I’m a little uncertain as to how he’s going to end his songs, because we didn’t get that far, and I had to cut rehearsal short when I suddenly remembered the black girl was still waiting.
However, Wittle David is a kind of a prodigy, in that he takes directions uncommonly well, and if he follows the two notebooks of suggestions that I gave him, and get rid of his father, he’ll get somewhere in life.
I like “Sweet Caroline”, but not Wittle David’s version. Neil’s way better. Wittle David’s a bit shouty, and pretty flat. I do not dig it. In fact, they all suck tonight. My David was OK, but really just OK. For me, his second worse performance after “Innocent”, which, he should have known, is a song only Canadians can sing well. Tss.
It’s quite evident why Wittle David always sticks to ballads, that’s his shtick, and maybe he should, after all, shtick to them. Anyway, he’s done, and I got to catch up with a few notes that I had missed earlier on, because Ryan talks way too fast when he’s whizzing.
And talking of Ryan, he grabs Wittle David by the back of the neck again, while he reads his number, and Wittle David winces a little, then smiles a lot, and the wittle girls in the peppit scream a lot and one of them throws a heart-shaped teddy bear at him.
Ryan leaves Wittle David to play with his new toy, and goes to Syesha. “Hello you! Do you think you’re gonna make the bottom 2 again? Or whatever else kind of bottom we have in store for you guys tonight? You should be used to it by now. How is it like to share a place with Brooke? Is it as dull as I think it is? Are you looking forward to her going home? Will you sleep with the lights on after she’s departed? Or do you think you’ll be the one getting the boot tonight? Who’s your favourite contestant, dead or alive? Have you ever been to South Dakota? I heard it’s beautiful….
While Ryan, who’s hitting a high right now, is hassling Syesha, someone rolls her Neil clip.
Neil Diamond: Hi Syesha! I’m sorry I had you waiting until 10.45pm, it’s not that I had forgotten about you at all, it’s because Wittle David… Children, you know…?
Syesha: It’s alright, it gave me time to prepare. Since I’m still torn between 9 different possible songs, I’ve learnt them all, as well as the back-vocals, and I also did a bit of shopping.
I’m really excited, because the show will be like a mini-concert, since we get to sing two songs each!
Neil Diamond: Can I give you a hug?
Syesha: What gives, old man?
Neil Diamond: You’re just so normal and refreshing, in comparison to all the freaks who just went through here all day, besides the rocker one with the funny hair, who doesn’t even need this show. Oh, maybe you know, what is up with those hippies? They are both really strange, in different ways… what are these people doing here?
Syesha: I can tell you since I have the “pleasure” to now have Brooke as a roommate, that she spends a lot of time crying, twisting her fingers, and trying to squeeze them into electrical outlets. And Jason smokes weed, sells weed, and buys weed, and in between two transactions, he sings, when he’s not sleeping.
Neil Diamond: Can I give you a hug then?
Syesha: No, can I give you a hug!?
Neil seems very impressed with Syesha. He says he’s very pleased with her, that she did great, and that he felt a bit guilty about totally forgetting about her while he was coaching Wittle David.
I have a feeling Syesha will do well tonight. First, I like her hair, and second, I can feel those things.
It’s yet another ballad, but not in that over-the-top diva style that Syesha seems to be so fond of, but more in a “Yesterday” by the Beatles way.
Again, just like in “Yesterday”, Syesha is sitting on the front steps of the stage, which makes all the annoying wittle hands in the peppit very obvious. I feel sorry for the poor folks who are sitting behind these, except for the judges who damn well deserve it.
***SPORTS UPDATE: FUCK. Habs lost the series. We’re out. Damn. Fuck you Philadelphia.***
It’s has been a while since I last sat here. Went out all week-end (in a less idiotic way than last week), and saw a shitload of bands, I saw like 8 or 9, most of which were surprisingly good.
Last night was great. I went to see the Habs lose at Barfly, and almost immediately after the game ended, one of the worst bands that I’ve seen in a while, and which shall remain unnamed, started playing, which cleared the bar pretty damn fast. We decided to run away too, but where? My friend went to the bank up the road, passed Divan Orange, another bar up the road, and found out that Sunny Duval and his new country band were playing there, and just like that, we went. And they were fucking hilarious. It was like musical comedy, I laughed really hard for both of their sets.
After this fascinating anecdote and several days, let’s get back to Syesha and her performance, shall we?
So she is singing this ballad, which has weird lyrics, about something that “put my heart above my head”, which sounds rather silly, Neil, and at the end you can see she totally wants to go diva on the big notes, because she just can’t help it, and she does get a bit yelly, but overall, it’s pretty OK I guess; but man, that first half of the show was pretty damn lackluster. Syesha was alright, but not amazing, and the song was very Zzzzzz.
Ryan appears and Syesha grabs his waist, and whispers: “You’re OK? You look a bit tense?”
Ryan: I’m getting better. We’re halfway through, and so far, nothing terrible happened. So I’m calming down a bit. I think I’ve got my grip back on things now, and as long as…
Voice from backstage: Ryan!? Ryan, can you come here, please?
Ryan: Oh what the hell now? What is going on?
Ryan disappears backstage, briefly, then he we hear a “NO!”, and then a “YES YOU WILL”, then a “I QUIT, THEN!” followed by a “WE’LL SUE YOUR ASS IF YOU DO THAT!”, and then Ryan reappears, all agitated, clearly clenching his mike like crazy, because his knuckles are even whiter than his face.
“America, bad news. Nigel has made a decision, which was in fact not his bad idea, for a change, but Fox’s. Basically, five minutes ago, Fox rang Nigel, and told him: “Tell the Ryan guy that we want the judges feedback now. If you decide to wait until the end of the show, then we’re not renewing your contract next year, capiche?”
So in spite of the fact that we are already running late, I have to ask for these boneheads’ opinions NOW, if I don’t want to lose one of my jobs. So contestants, where the hell are you, and get your asses here, quick! We’re LATE!
While the contestants run onto the stage, all panicky and “Huh, what is going on? What have we done?”, Ryan has taken a conspiratorial tone, and explains:
“I’ll be honest America, I have the sinking feeling right now, that this is a really bad idea, and I have this other feeling, that I’ll have some explaining to do tomorrow…
So, judges, I’m sorry to wake you up in the middle of your nap like this, but what did you think of the show up until now, in case you watched it?”
This is when I need to stop “recapping” and just let the images speak for themselves. This was one of the best Idol moments for me, because I absolutely adore when shit happens on live TV. I live for this stuff. That’s why I was totally addicted to the View, when Rosie O’Donnell was the moderator. Rosie made shit happen big time on that show!
But back to this particular moment on Idol, I’ll let you watch it first, and then we’ll comment on it afterwards. Is that working for you?
And remember, this is the first part of the show, the contestants have only sang ONE song each.
Was that fucking awesome, or WHAT? LOL! Seriously, don’t you love Paula? She’s the best. It confirms my long-lasting suspicion that the Sex Pistols have written “Pretty Vacant” as a tribute to her.
I’ve also read a pretty interesting article on the Paula debacle… Let me find it… Ah, there you go! For those on dial-up, the article has a transcript of what Paula exactly said.
So what the fuck happened here? I mean, we all know that Paula isn’t all there, nor here, but dude, who the fuck hears DOUBLE??? I’m still chuckling, man, and it’s been like five days.
So to uncover the truth, what I did was I went stalking my boyfriend Ryan Seacrest on his own website, and listened to his interview with Paula, the day after. You can listen to the interview, or download it HERE. Just scroll down the page a little.
I don’t think this part is really worth recapping, because there is no way I could ever come up with something as fucking funny as what Paula did there. I mean, that was a classic!!!
And if you haven’t seen this episode of Idol, and have dial-up, it’s seriously worth letting the video above load, because it’s a must-see.
Paula basically criticized Jason’s second song, the one that the hasn’t sang YET. I have no words, besides: FUCKING AWESOME!
As for Paula’s “reasons” for this huge-mega-fuckfest, or what she chose to tell Ryan when he went: “What the fuck was up with you last night?” on her butt, is that she wrote the notes for Jason and my David on the same piece of paper, and got confused, which seems weird to me because Paula is always confused. But anyway, she got more confused than usual, and basically, read to Jason the notes she had for my David, and forgot that Jason had only sang once, and the reality is far less complicated than my explanation. So just go listen to Ryan’s interview.
I’ve re-watched the clip, again, because I just can’t get enough of it, and here are a bunch of quick notes on it:
-One of the things I love is when the crowd starts cracking up as Paula is completely oblivious that she is completely talking through her ass.
-I’d like to know where the fuck Randy got that Wittle David was “Da Bomb”, because he sure wasn’t.
-I liked Simon’s critique, because he made sense, went straight to the point, and I agree with everything he said, which automatically makes it a good critique in my book.
-I love when Randy’s chuckling before saying to Brooke that she was “better than last week” (which totally meant: “You weren’t as bad as last week, but then again, who could? That was hard to beat, yo!”)
-Randy says “in the zone” twice. (Remember, he ditched “pitchy”, so we’re counting the “in the zone” now.)
-But most of all, I love the very awkwardness emanating from both Randy and Simon, as Paula is going on and on and on with her nonsense.
That was priceless, you guys. Seriously.
Ryan: Rebel, are you here? Do you have a sec’?
Rebel Without A Clue: HAHAHA!!! BWAH!!! Ryan, that was AWESOME!!! What the fuck happened?
Ryan: I guess those blotters have finally kicked in. Mind you, you’ll notice, I’m not laughing. Who the fuck do you think will have to come up with a reasonable explanation for this blunder? Moi. As usual. I’m getting really sick and tired of getting kicked around by these clowns on that show, you know?
Rebel Without A Clue: Have ever been told that you’re kinda hot when you’re angry? You should get pissed off more often, you know? It gives you… personality. I like it. You should slap David Cook after you’ve read his number. Then you guys could get into a fight, and take off your shirts. And it would be cool if Jason joined in too. Slap him too!
Ryan: Not that I wouldn’t like to, but we don’t have time to indulge in your stupid ideas tonight. We already don’t have time for the actual show, so never mind the naked fights. Maybe tomorrow night?
Rebel Without A Clue: You would do that for me? Can you take yourself out of the fight then? Just get Jason to slap David, or vice-versa? I just think it’d be sexier that way. Plus I’ve seen you naked already. Nothing new for me to see there.
Ryan: I’ve seen you naked too, remember? I’ve even taken pictures. I’m gonna Facebook them tonight when I get home, because you’re a bitch. I have to go, the show is starting is without me…
Ryan goes off to the judges desk, slaps Paula on the back of her head, whispers “You moron!” in her ear and sings that Jason is coming up.
Rebel Without A Clue: What’s with the singing, Ryan? You did that last week too, and some folks on IMDb said you weren’t too bad. Did you read it?
Ryan: Yes, I did. I was really flattered in fact. So I’m going to do it every week, so that maybe, they’ll eventually consider letting me audition, although I’m past the age limit. I am, after all, better than some of the people in this top 5. Like for instance, the stoner up there on the stage, the one that we’re just about to listen to.
I’m starting to really believe that Jason’s has completely lost his interest for this show. He’s singing a disgustingly syrupy and sentimental ballads, like I hate them, and I actually do like Jason enough to handle it when he does ballads. But really, there is nothing remarkable there at all.
I do notice that Jason plays a fair bit to the camera though… He does those eyes, the ones that make girls pass out, several times… Yeah, yeah, yeah, Jason’s seems to have become conscious of his charm and sex-appeal, and has decided to focus on that, instead of singing, because why bother learning Andrew Lloyd Webber songs, when all you have to do is smile?
RANDY: Dude, when I listen to you these days, I really question our judgment, as in what the fuck are you doing here, and why did we put you here in the first place. Let’s face it yo, you suck. your performance what very whatever, and so are you. In fact, you’re starting to irritate me. Your nonchalance and your not giving a damn attitude is starting to get more obnoxious than David Cook’s occasional bouts of smugness. But at least he’s trying, and you’re not.
Ryan: OK, that’s enough, Randy, we’re in a rush, remember? Paula.
PAULA: I think you took the same liberties on all of your five songs, those liberties being that you’re not even trying, you’re just coasting through this thing, and it’s irritating even me now.
Jason: But the reason for my mediocre singing is that I have a bad throat. The new batch of weed that I got from San Francisco last week-end is great, but it’s a killer for the throat. It’s the kind that makes you cough and cough if you smoke it without tobacco? It’s really good though, because look at me right now, you guys are blasting me, and I’m still laughing! But I agree though, having a joint between my two performances might not have been the best idea I’ve had today. Simon, would you also like to go for jugular, like the rest of your little friends here?
SIMON: Who the fuck are you? I don’t recognize you anymore. That was a whole lot of nothing, you did squat to make the song your won, and as a result, you sounded as boring and tuneless as Neil himself. For some bizarre reason, I did genuinely like you at some point, a few months ago, but now, you annoy the living shit out of me. And you know what, pal? You will regret this. When you’ll be back at the coffee shop, playing in front of a bunch of stoned slackers for a handful of small change, you’ll be thinking back about us, and find that curfews and interviews weren’t that bad after all. You’ll see.
Ryan: Are you done with the threats Simon? OK, since the producers clearly have had enough of Jason, America, there will only be one phone number to vote for him tonight. This is a change of program that I’m currently hearing in my ear monitor, but I don’t even care about those ridiculous last minute changes anymore at this point. This is just bordering on pure silliness now, so what the hell. Plus Paula will be the one everyone will make fun of this week, so even if I screw up who cares. But enough about me, and let’s go to David Cook.
Man, is he hot tonight or WHAT?!! Geez, phew, it’s hot in here! My David, could you please at least take your shirt off? And then put the guitar back on, and then play? I love shirtless guitarists.
Ryan: I told you Rebel, we have no time to talk about sex and shirtless guys tonight. Pay attention to David’s singing, and stop trying to look through his clothes.
Rebel Without A Clue: Who rang you, sex police? It’s my fucking blog, and I can do what I want. And stop looking over my shoulder like this, it’s annoying. Return backstage to get ready for Nigel’s next last minute modifications.
This song is way better than the first one, in spite of the fact that it’s a ballad. My David makes a couple of cute faces like he did on his Tourettes night, but he keeps it pretty subtle and toned down, so he doesn’t look too much like Constantine.
In fact, I have to say, this is pretty damn good. I know it’s my David, and that I do have the major hots for him, but there is no denying that the dude can sing, although I must admit that the dude in question is making it really damn hard for me to concentrate solely on his performance, since I keep getting distracted by thoughts, the like of: “I wonder how he would look in my shower…? Or with his head on my pillow, or in the morning, in my kitchen, drinking my orange juice, and wearing one of my T-shirts…? Or with a condom on…?”
Someone in the audience is waving a sign that says: “Now you’re Cooking”, which, if it was an American sign, I would qualify as stupid. But because it’s got a Canadian flag at the bottom, I will call it “very damn clever”, because I’m a bitch like that.
RANDY cannot wait to talk. He’s not even waiting for the audience to shut up, he’s waving, and all “Yo, check it out, baby! You know that I’m a huge David Cook fan, and that I’d never say something bad about you, so you were blazing!”
PAULA: I didn’t like your second song as much as your seventh, but man, just finding all these Neil Diamond songs that even Neil Diamond didn’t know is totally brilliant. You’re really gifted in internet research. Either that, or you got the best computer of the bunch of yous. Right now, I feel like I’m looking at the American Idol. Either that, or the winner of Bill Gates’s future version of “the Apprentice”.
When he hears that, my David lets out a little gasp, and gives one of those “Oh, no you didn’t?!” looks, which is cute as hell.
SIMON: Your first song was OK, your second song was brilliant. You actually managed to make that song not only not shitty, but also not old-fashioned. If you take into consideration the fact that you picked songs that were too mediocre for Neil himself to play, I think you can have a brilliant career at writing, or “borrowing” arrangements, if singing doesn’t work out for you. You’re a very smart guy, David.
My David: Well, recently, I came across this search engine for American Idol songs generator, so I’ve been able to come up with more stuff that sounds original, since most of the people who use these generators are not on American Idol. But thanks anyway.
My David is making all kinds of earth-shatteringly-cute silly faces, while Ryan speed-reads his numbers, as well as Jason’s discarded number, which has been recently attributed to my David, because Nigel has just decided David deserves it more.
Then Ryan punches my David in the arm, and says: “I’m sure you’re stoked!”
My David knocks him over the head with his guitar, then goes to sit down.
When we come back from the commercial, my David is kneeling next to Ryan, offering bags of ice and apologies, while Ryan is saying stuff like: “Get away from me you psycho! What a fucking night from hell. First Nigel, then Nigel again, then Paula, and now you? Geez, give me a break! Go sit down, I don’t want to see your face until tomorrow night.”
Rebel Without A Clue: Yeah, that’s good Ryan, that’s what I’m talking about, get angry with them, anger looks good on you. it makes you… less bland. I like it. Mind you, that bump the size of a cantaloupe on the side of your head isn’t too fetching. I think maybe you should wear a hat.
Ryan: Good idea, I’m feeling rather self-conscious at the moment. Cook! Come back here! If you want to make yourself useful, find me a hat. Something cool, not a baseball cap or a sombrero. Something classy and cool, like a panama.
And now America, let’s get on with the show, assuming you’re still with us, because you may well have switched channels, knowing that Brooke was up next.
So, Brooke, is this moving Coke background making you nauseous too? And how does it feel like to be be called “a nightmare”? Does it hurt more or less than being called an “2.99$ unseasoned hamburger bun”?
Brooke: I think Simon was really being over-dramatic with this statement. I was no nightmare. A bad dream, perhaps, but not a nightmare. Absolutely not. Not okay.
Ryan: I think he was spot on, personally. How do you bounce back from such a sucky performance? What are you gonna do to try to make the next one not as sucky?
Brooke: I’m gonna play the piano instead of the guitar. I have very pretty feet, and it’s the one part of my body that I like to show off.
The other thing that I won’t do, is forget my lyrics, because I’ve written them down on my hand. Look, it says: “Palm trees grow/and rents are low”.
Rebel Without A Clue: Palm trees grow and rents are low? These lyrics are even lamer than Syesha’s “My heart is above my head” or something in that vein… Where do you guys get the idea of these ridiculous mentors? I hope you don’t pay these folks. In fact, what I hope is that it’s them who ask to come on the show.
Ryan: Rebel, shut up, can’t you see that I’m trying to throw Brooke off and crush her pre-performance spirits?
Rebel Without A Clue: Oh, I’m sorry Ryan, I didn’t know you were doing it purposely. Go ahead.
Ryan: Where was I? Oh, yeah, you cheating and writing one line of lyrics on your hand. What are you going to do if you forget the rest of the song?
Brooke: I’ll just keep doing that line over and over again, and once in a while, I’ll go “Whoo!”, to entertain people. What do I have to lose anyway?
Ryan: How are you feeling right now? A little speedy, perhaps? Did you feel any different after that herbal tea that you had earlier on?
Brooke: I think I’ll have to switch brands, because I suspect this one may have had caffeine in it, and as a Mormon, I’m not allowed to drink potentially intoxicating substances like coffee. So it is true that I’m feeling slightly more wired than usual, but not to that great an extend.
Ryan: Lucky you! Go sing your song!
This is actually pretty damn decent for Sunshine. I don’t hate it, at all. In fact, if it wasn’t Sunshine, I could maybe even get around to “likin’ it”, but let’s not kid ourselves here. This is Brooke, my arch enemy. I ain’t no likin’ her. Especially since it’s now Sunday night, and I so know that she’s a goner.
But seriously though, this is totally her bag; that is what she does, and she does it pretty well. And I much prefer her when she’s on the piano, I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or what, but that’s the way it is. So fuck caution, and I’ll just say it: I liked it. After all, it’s not like I run the risk of ever liking her again, since we already said bye-bye to Brooke on Wednesday.
Look on the bright side, Sunshine, at least, you left us on a high note. Well, as high as you can get, given your limited range. Your getting the boot kinda sucks for me though, because with you gone, I’m down yet another scapegoat. I’ll have to write an ode to you too, because you were as essential to my “recaps” as Pikachu was, so you deserve your own ode. I’ll write you one as soon as I’m done with this “recap”, and the next “recap”, and the “recaps” of the shows that haven’t aired yet, but if Paula can reviews songs that haven’t yet been sung, I can “recap” shows that haven’t yet aired.
Meanwhile, Brooke has finished her song, and is profusely thanking everyone for coming.
RANDY: I always like when you sit behind the piano, because we see less of you. It also shows off your vulnerability, as well as your many flaws, which is not good on a show like ours, but which nonetheless does make for good television.
But I have to give you props though; you didn’t make it easy for yourself by picking this song, because it actually has notes in it, and quite a lot of them, at that. So I’ll hand it to you: nice job.
Brooke: Thank you, Randy, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Randy. Thank you.
Rebel Without A Clue: WTF? What is she saying? I’ve just replayed it twice, and dude, if in the first part of the part of the show, Paula was seeing into the future, in the latter part, she’s back in the past, back to these un-“recapped” faraway episodes of Idol, which were crammed full of foreigners. Back to “American Idol gives back” and why is she bringing this up? I’m not following her at all.
Paula doesn’t make any sense, you guys. You don’t mind if I skip her critique? We’ll just pretend that she’d gone to the toilet during Brooke’s performance, and that Ryan didn’t want to wait for her to come back and give her feedback.
You guys: But didn’t you just write that Paula had gone to the toilet during Brooke’s song? How can she give her feedback, if she wasn’t there?
Rebel Without A Clue: If Paula can critique songs that haven’t been sung yet, it won’t be much of a stretch for her to critique songs that were sang while she wasn’t in the room.
You guys: Oh, we see… Thanks. We’ll leave a comment after we’re done reading this. 🙂
SIMON: I hated your first song with the same intensity David Cook has in his eyes when he looks at that “recapper”. I put it in my “girls’ night out at the karaoke bar” sound bite category.
But as Randy said, and, I think, Paula was looking for words to say too, you, at the piano, is the Brooke we know and managed to put up surprisingly well with, for what seems like an eternity. But this, you, sitting at the piano, singing a very good song (?), wasn’t incredible, but it was a million times better than the first song. I will admit that I wasn’t looking forward to hear you the second time around, so believe me when I tell you how much relief it was to hear you sound half-decent for a change.
So there, just for that, I’ll say: well done!
Sunshine, who up until now, had a permanent wince of pain on her face, as if Ryan was hiding behind her and pulling her hair, or something, breaks into an equally permanent grin, and goes back into thank you mode, until Ryan interrupts her with a: “Hey, will you shut up? Do you want me to read your numbers or not? I said several times that we were in a rush. The folks over at Dancing With The Stars will be livid, again. I knew this show was a bad idea. Nigel, you suck. Brooke, go sit down. Wittle David, come here. Simon, fuck you. Rebel fuck me. Ladies and gentlemen, Wittle David, and “America”!
Another patriotic song, but nowhere near as funny as the unforgettable moment, courtesy of Krist-Hee-Haw, when she might have well grabbed her mike and said: “Red states? I am your girl. Vote for me.” That was brilliant. I kinda miss Krist-Hee-Haw. According to my calculations, she’s the kind of chick I should have hated, and didn’t. Bizarre.
Anywho, Wittle David kinda sucks, and I’m not really listening, because I’m busy catching up on all those bloody notes. This show is just so fucking hectic, my paper is covered with unfinished sentences. But from the wittle I’ve heard, I’m tempted to call this performance, bland, boring, insipid, tasteless, and not his style at all.
On the upside, it isn’t a ballad. Which is why it isn’t his style. Me not blown out of my socks. Wittle David cannot pull off patriotic songs as masterfully as Krist-Hee-Haw, obviously. So I guess it’s back to ballads next week, and let’s make that until the end of the season.
Eww, I’m re-listening to it right now, guys, and this really isn’t good. Very tacky, the vocals are not that strong, I heard a couple of cracks, and no. Bring Krist-Hee-Haw back!
RANDY (Who’s laughing like a fucking whale right now, and I do not know why.): Yo, yo dude, yo. For a young man, you’re definitely in the zone, (that makes it 3 “in the zone”), that was another great performance, baby! Hahahaha!
PAULA: It was the absolute perfect song for you to sing, David, your voice is so on point, I just want to see that joy and that spirit, and the prodigy, and that little savant I-don’t-know-what, and I love you, you are brilliant, have fun.
(I would just like to point out that the above is pretty much verbatim what Paula said, and that it almost makes sense, if you are indifferent to the fact that if these guys found this brilliant, they’re bound to be deaf.
I also wanted to point out that Idol flashes some audience signs, two, to be precise, and that neither of them relates to Wittle David. Which is kinda funny. One of them is whining about Simon not bringing her/him any flowers. I would like to know more about this. I’ll ask Ryan to give me the dirt later on.)
Wittle David looks blankly at Paula, like he totally doesn’t give a damn about what she says.
SIMON: David, that was one motherfucking smart choice of song. I have to hand it to you, that was clever.
Randy: Totally. I mean, American idol, “America”? You ‘re a genius, yo!
Simon: I mean it ticked all the boxes, right? Your audience is going to love th…
Randy: What does “tick all the boxes” mean?
Simon: It means it was absolutely the right choice, you imbecile. Like all the boxes are like, check, check, check. Very good.
Randy: Oh, I see…
(I don’t. That sucked, why am I the only one to see it? Wittle David is so boring, I can’t even come up with anything funny to write about him. He is the least inspiring contestant I’ve had to deal with this season.
Ryan reads his number, Wittle David smiles, wittle girls shriek, and we head off to commercial.
When we come back, Ryan is in the peppit, trying to get himself rid of two wittle girls who have climbed on his back and are refusing to come down. “No, we love Ryan, plus he’s not much taller than us, so we can see even if we’re behind him.”
Ryan: Oh. Rebel, that was low. You know how I have no problem with pretty much everyone thinking that I’m gay, or that I have a small penis, which you made sure to inform everyone of last week. But I’m really particular about my height, and do not like no smart-assy “recappers” making fun of it. OK?
Rebel Without A Clue: Sorry, I didn’t know. Here’s a phone book.
Ryan: What for? Climb on it?
Rebel Without A Clue: No, to clubber these wittle girls with.
Ryan: Can’t you just delete that sentence, so that I can get on with the show quicker? Plus I really don’t like being here. All these wittle girls are pretty scary. They keep pinching me and trying to strangle me with my tie. ARRGGH, get off of me, already, for fuck’s sake! OK, America, go to ITunes, you’ll see, its great.
In a last effort to get rid of a kid who’s holding him by the waist and keeps headbutting him in the stomach, Ryan grabs her by the braids, and says: “You, stop, or I’ll fucking kill you, you got that right? Syesha, take the stage please, I don’t want the camera to be on me when I kill one of these brats.”
I actually prefer this song for Syesha, it’s a lot more soulful. It is called: “Thank the lord for the nighttime”. It is indeed well-advised on that show, to either kiss America’s ass, or sing about Jesus and the gang. Syesha opted for the latter, which turns out to be a good call, but still, once again, I am not totally blown away. It’s fine, but something is missing, an energy that should be there, but isn’t. Syesha does pick it up big time towards the end though, because I actually get goosebumps, but the beginning was a bit flat for me.
Still, certainly a good performance. She should really stick to this kinda stuff, I find, that soulful, almost gospelly stuff, because that’s where she really shines. I remember very well when she sang “Chain of fools” in Hellywood, and impressed the heck out of me. Then she managed to prevent me from enjoying her this whole season, by picking diva song, after diva song, week after week, fucking diva songs. So does that mean that her ass is toast tomorrow, now that I’m liking her?
RANDY: Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo. What I’m loving about you right now, is that you’re finally realizing who you are. That is also in the zone (make that 4, you guys), and more stuff that Rebel isn’t bothering to write down, but basically, I like you in this. This is where I like you. So stay put.
PAULA: I didn’t get to critique your first song because the guys cut me off before I could embarrass myself any further, earlier on, so I’ll give you my feedback for it, now that Nigel has printed it out. The reason why I messed up earlier on, by the way, was that I wasn’t able to read my notes, because I wasn’t able to write them down properly, and it is all due to the bad lighting in this place.
In the first song, you demonstrated your vulnerability and showed off all your wonderful textures and colours, and different animals, and that is your magic.
In the second song, you showed a whole different side, and that’s your performance theatrical place (?), but your third song was by far the best, because when you’re pop-singing, you can be a toss-up between a person that I don’t know, and another person that I don’t know.
SIMON (to Paula): You liked it?
Paula: Yes I did, I love her!
Simon: This is officially the most bizarro show like, ever. I kind like it though.
Ryan: Knock yourself out. I fucking hate it. I’m so glad it’s almost over. Rebel, can I have a celebratory hug?
Rebel Without A Clue: Not now Ryan, can’t you see I’m taking notes?
Ryan: Rebel, don’t kid yourself. Your “recap” will never be up before next week, so why bother? The show will have been posted online before you actually get around to “recapping” the first performance. Get over yourself, and gimme a hug!!!
Rebel Without A Clue: Ah, alright then, come here… There, there… Ryan, I know that you’re feeling up my ass, and you’d be well-advised to stop, if you don’t want end this show with yet another injury.
Ryan: I’m sorry, my hand slipped. Thanks.
Simon: Well, too bad you’re not enjoying yourself Ryan, it fills me with joy. But I agree that tonight was a little chaotic.
Ryan: I’d call that an understatement, to say the least.
Simon: Syesha, you are a very good actress/singer.
Syesha: Yes, I am, I totally agree with you that I’m very good.
Simon: Regardless, I think you’re screwed, my friend.
Syesha: You’ve got to be kidding me??!
Just as if it wanted to demonstrate how much it disagrees with Simon, the camera pans over the audience, where like 80 “I love Syesha” signs are being brandished.
Syesha: But Simon, why am I screwed? Paula didn’t say that I looked beautiful tonight, or any other jinx of the sort. So what gives?
Simon: Math. There are only five of you left now, duh! So it’s basically a calculated guess, based on the statistical evidence, provided by David Cook, whom I mandated to do some internet research on that.
Paula: She’s a brilliant vocalist though.
Simon: I just don’t think you had a memorable second song like some of the others did tonight, besides Jason, who sucked both times, but who, let’s face it, won’t go home AGAIN, because of all these horny girls who, for some reason, find his dreadful dreads attractive, and keep voting for him.
While the audience is booing Simon, and throwing rotten veggies at him, Ryan jumps on the stage next to Syesha, hugs her rapidly, messes up her hair, saying “it’s almost over!! I’m so happy!!!”
Syesha: Me too! I’m still smiling, although it hurts like hell right now!
Ryan reads Syesha’s numbers, then we move on to the recap of the show, which I already have “recapped” above, in case you haven’t noticed, so I’m not going back there. I’ll just mention that if you listen closely, when they show bits of Jason’s songs, you can clearly hear the judges commenting: “Man, this guy sucks. We really fucked up something hardcore when we decided to put him through. We should have known how unreliable these hippies are.”
Then basically, the show ends with Ryan throwing all my credibility as a “recapper” out the window, by saying that the death threats Idol will be receiving tonight, will not come from Dancing With The Stars, like I’ve been blogging about for about a month, but from some other show called “Hell’s kitchen”, which just cannot be good. Ryan kisses shamelessly the “nicest chef on TV”‘s butt. I guess that if I was expecting a visit from a demonic chef, who happens to work in a kitchen likely well stocked up with knives, I would kiss ass too, and point at Nigel, mouthing: “It’s his fault, he’s the one you want to beat up.”
“In the zone” count: 4.
I’ll end by leaving you with a couple of funny Idol videos that some folks have been posting over at IMDb.
This one is from Idol Extra, and contains parts that made me swoon even harder for my David, as if my fantardiness towards him wasn’t debilitating enough. He’s fucking hil’Arrgh’rrrious in it! And cherry on the cake, Sunshine’s is not allowed to talk in this video, so just for that added bonus, I’d watch it if I were you.
As for this one, Idol shipped the contestants to Vegas over the weekend, where they got to answer stupid questions, sign autographs, have their picture taken with a lot of hysterical idiots, and play with dolphins, and this vid demonstrates how karma doesn’t always work, since Jason is obviously mad about dolphins, but they don’t have no love lost for him in return. It also shows that neither Davids seem to be fans of large mammals who try to pass themselves as fish.
And this is how this “recap” ends, and I hope to see you again around here sometime soon. Later!