Before you ask, no, there is no typo in the title of this post. It is indeed my (ever-so-slightly delayed) recap of the top 10 results.
It has dawned on me that posting a recap of a two-weeks old show may kind of dumbass-y, but given that I already had written most of the fucker, then thought I’d lost it, only to find it again yesterday, I figured I might as well publish it, thus giving you something to read while I write the other four recaps that I have lined up.
Plus I was really due to post something I had written myself. The way things are at the moment, Diablo is contributing to my own blog more than I do. So thank you Diablo for keeping my blog alive for me! 😉
I don’t know what the fuck is up with me, but I’ve found it really hard to blog in the recent weeks. My mind is all over the place (although mostly in the gutter these days, but that’s another story for some other time) and I’m having trouble focusing. But hey, at least, I’m trying, so don’t give me no grief!
OK, I’ll stop my ramblings right here, and try and get started on recapping last night’s show in between two loads of laundry.
In the meantime, enjoy the nostalgia of this top 10 results recap! (Man, I can be SO lame sometimes…!)
Good night and welcome back to the cheesiest show on Earth.
But before we start, a quick note: I have been made aware, thanks to the good people over at Blog Catalog, that I was a thief.
By that, I mean I have been pinching pictures left and right on the web, which it seems I had no business in pinching. I always was under the impression that if you linked back to or credited the author/owner, it was an OK thing to do, but apparently, it’s not. So sue me.
Or actually, don’t. Please. I was just being funny there. I honestly didn’t know about this shit. So if you find pictures on this blog that belong to you and want me to take them down, please email me and I’ll do it immediately. I could always flee the country, but I really don’t want to go back to France. At least not under Sarko’s presidency.
Therefore, following this depressing discovery, I am forced to tell you, dear readers, that I won’t be posting pictures anymore, and that it’s something which I’m personally delighted about. I hated posting the fuckers. It’s just that I happened to read in some blogging tips post that pictures keep readers around longer, so I thought I’d give it shot. But no more. Unless you can tell me where on the web I can get my hands on some free Idol pictures. Preferably of this season’s contestants. Although if you know where I can find pictures of David Cook naked, feel free to pass me this info along too. Strictly for research purposes of course. It’s for my personal study on the effects that reality TV induced stardom has on the penises of males ages 25-35.
And speaking of penises, these close neighbours of “bollocks”, “asshole” and “shit”, let’s now focus our attention on American Idol, which, for some reason, always makes me think of these things.
The show starts off with Smokey Robinson, talking in voice-over about stuff I didn’t take any notes for. Meanwhile, the most dramatic moments of last night’s show (wait!? there were dramatic moments last night?) go by on the screen.
“Whose dream is on the line?”, asks Ryan.
“Well, mine, for sure…” Rebel Without A Clue answers.
Ladies and Gentlemen, This is AMMMERICANIDOL!
Waaaa-wa! (This is the show’s jingle, in case you were wondering.)
Lots of fangirls in the audience tonight, if I judge by the sustained eardrum-shattering shrieking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost expect the Beatles to toddle in. Well, at least two of them. Well, at least one of them. I’ve decided that if Ringo is too good to be graceful to his fans, he deserves to be demoted, and thus, I therefore announce that I shall not refer to him as a Beatle no more. It’s only fair. After all, Pluto was unfairly demoted from the solar system, and as far as I know, it hadn’t been demeaning or rude to its fans. I should know, I’m still a fervent supporter of Planet Pluto, which shows me its gratitude by responding to all the fan mail I send it, and occasionally emails me pictures of Neptune’s backside. Thanks to its goofy orbit, Pluto has a unique view of what all the other planets are trying to hide: their fat ass. I can’t wait for the year 2917, which is when Uranus will be unable to hide its massive behind from Pluto. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh…
How the hell did I go from American Idol to Pluto?…
Ryan announces that 36 people voted one million times each last night, for a grand total of complete bull. As usual, it’s the highest amount of votes ever. For that week anyway.
The top 10 are sitting on their benches, minus Scott, who wasn’t told the show had started and is still waiting in the green room.
Adam discreetly slips away to go get him, while Ryan wastes two minutes explaining to us that tonight’s a busy night and that they’ll have to keep things moving swiftly, what with having three live performances and all. Other than Smokey’s token post-mentoring performance, we will be treated to a 2003 flashback, the year Clay Aiken won American Idol, but the title was mistakenly awarded to Ruben Studdard. And, for totally non-Idol-related, but no doubt monetary reasons, Joss Stone and Stevie Wonder will be singing also.
But fuck all this shit and let’s focus on the people who really matter in this competition: the judges. Tonight, Simon is wearing his white T-shirt… God, I really take the weirdest notes sometimes…!
Right off the bat, Ryan’s all about the dirt: “You and Paula were all over each other last night. What the hell?
Simon: What the hell what? We fucked. Thrice before the show, twice after, and now we’re back to annoying one another.
Ryan: Did you fuck Paula out of spite?
Simon: Out of spite of what?
Ryan: Well, you did get snubbed by Obama, didn’t you?
Simon: Obam… Oh, that…! That was a joke. I didn’t mean it.
Ryan: Didn’t mean what? To ask him out for dinner? Because you did ask him out for dinner, didn’t you?
Simon: Yes, but it was a joke…
Ryan: Wh… OH! I get it! You said to him: “Mr. Obama, would you like to have dinner with me?” as a joke, knowing full well that it would be a frosty Friday in hell until he’d even consid…
Simon: OK, that’s enough with politics, Ryan. I think we have more interesting people to talk about than the man who holds America’s fate in his hands. Like last night’s show, for instance….
Ryan being busy elbowing Matt in the ribs and whispering in his ear while pointing and laughing at Simon, Simon orders the dude who’s in charge of rolling last night’s show’s recap clip, to do his job and roll the damn thing already, before the Obama thing is brought up again.
The recap clip is very informative; in it, other than Simon and Paula’s Crayola fetish trip, which is fully revisited, Ryan tells us that some of the girls weren’t great last night. By that, he means that Megan wasn’t great last night. The clip ends on Allison’s performance, which it seems got both Paula and Kara up on their feet, dancing and behaving like two crazed David Cook fangirls, minus the bunny ears.
It is now time for the group cheese, which has go to be at least half-decent, since it’s a Motown medley. The 3 girls start off singing “You keep me hanging on”, then Scott, led by Matt who’s dragging him by the wrist, join them.
Note to the Idol producers: Rebel Without A Clue would like to let you know that she thinks having Scott singing a duet with Allison, is like being a fat chick getting her picture taken in the midst of a group of skinny bitches: a bad idea. He already doesn’t sound that great by himself, but putting him next to Allison isn’t helping his cause.
For the sake of irrelevance, some original Motown footage is shown during the group cheese. Not that it’s irrelevant to air Motown footage during a Motown medley, but these kids get like, 4 minutes of airtime on your average one-hour results show, so shouldn’t the 2 minutes group cheese show them, instead of say, pictures of a young Diana Ross? Plus what if we miss something good? Like Scott getting the dance steps wrong, for instance?
By the way, I read somewhere that the group cheese was lip-synched. And then somewhere else, I read that it had been pre-recorded. And then somewhere else, I read that it was both. So I just don’t know what to believe anymore, although the words “This show is rigged” do come to mind.
The possibly pre-recorded lip-synched group cheese ends on a non-live rendition of Ain’t no mountain high enough, at the end of which Adam, back to his old disturbingly sexy androgynous self, lets out his token crazy-high-note-that-only-dogs-can-hear, and we’ll be back after the break.
It’s 8.13, and we’re back from commercials. So how about we watch a commercial?
Time for the Ford music video, to the tune of Pocketful of sunshine. In it, the Idols have Crayola crayons, and do all kinds of super-obscene stuff with them, which it would be inappropriate to narrate on my totally child-friendly blog. The video is pretty so-so, but Adam is pretty not so-so in it; more like pretty hot.
Ryan then tells us that if you go on American Idol.com, you stand a chance to win a car. And Rebel Without A Clue tells you that you stand a much better chance if you go on Oprah. I mean her show, not her.
The time has now come to show us some results.
From 2003. Season 2. Unofficial runner-up: Ruben Studdard.
Ruben is still huge, still velvety, still teddy-bear-y and still pretty boring; or at least, the song is, although it picks up and gets quite good at the end. He really seems like a sweet guy though.
Ryan asks the Idols to say hello to Ruben and to tell him he’s dope. They oblige.
The following segment should be called: “Idol gives back to Al Gore by making sure he keeps his job as an anti-global warming superhero”. It shows the contestants flying to Detroit by private jet, for a stay of a duration of, according to Matt, 10 whole hours. Wow. What a fucking waste of resources. I’m SO emailing Al after I’m done with this recap.
But seriously, all these emissions for 10 hours in Detroit? Little green me is getting all worked up over this, so I better move on before I officially make Simon Fuller my new “I fucking hate you, you fucking fuck” person.
Speaking of hate, Lil is over-explaining in her largely unintelligible accent how cool is was to stink up the atmosphere for that whole lot of nothing. As for Matt, he says that were they headed for any other destination BUT Michigan, he would have vehemently protested against the private jet idea; thrown a Molotov cocktail even, all in the name of fighting global warming. But it just so happens that Matt is from Michigan, so he admits he was swayed by the idea of going home, even just for a few hours; he then promises me he’ll make it up to me, by building an anti-pigeons device for my balcony after the Idol tour is over.
Back at the Kodak Thea… What the hell…? What’s going on? Why is the stage so dark and… OH. Yeah, of course, the results! I’d completely forgotten about them!
Ryan announces that the time has come to pull out the bottom 3 contestants, but that first, Adam needs some exercise; he asks him to get up, and then to sit back down again. He then tells him that he’s safe, but that he’d benefit from doing this up and down exercise a couple of hundred times a day.
And I, Rebel Without a Clue, would like to tell you, Adam, that should you need any kind of “assistance” with that “up and down” exercise, I would be happy to help you with it as many times a day as you want. 😀 And yes, I am aware that I am part of the wrong “team”, but you never know. People do change.
Matt is next to be summoned by Ryan to get off his fat ass. However, Ryan, this rascal, totally throws me off by telling Matt to go for a jog towards the losers’ stools and to sit on one. The audience is pissed, and I, am taken aback. Matt? Bottom 3, really? Well, it’s at least nice to see that Idol is still able to surprise me once in a blue moon.
Ryan moves on to the next contestant: “Kris? Get up. Pull down your pants… See, Paula? Briefs, I told you. You can give me my $50 after the show. OK, Kris, you can sit back down, you’re safe.”
“Lil and Michael, stand up… Come on, hurry up, you morons! Lil, once upon a time, two other black American Idol female contestants with large butts sang the exact same song as you did… Know what happened to them?
Lil: They lost weight?
Ryan: … Yes, that too. But first, they ended up in the bottom 3.
Lil: Ah geet it, Ryan, so ah’ll sitindastoolo’erthewe, andah’ll…
Ryan: But you, Lil, escaped the curse. You are safe. So sit down, and for the love of God, shut the fuck up. Rebel has NO idea what the hell you’re going on about half the time, and neither have I.
“Michael, buddy, it’s probably back to the oil rig for you, my man. However, if you seriously think about it, which job is the most dangerous: working on an oil rig, or being David Cook and getting stalked across the country by dozens of horny Fuck Bunnies?”
“So Michael, please join Matt on the Stools of Bottom 3-dom, and exchange phone numbers and email addresses now, while we go to break. When we come back, we’ll have more Idol-unrelated material, starting with Joss Stone.”
“You’re the one for me” is the song. Joss Stone is the singer. Her dress is so long that I can’t see if she’s barefoot, which I think is one of her trademarks. Or maybe was… Perhaps she decided to adopt shoes, and is trying to ease her audience into it by not showing them her feet? Or maybe I’m just over-thinking this whole “dress too long” thing? Possibly. However, it IS way too long, and other than making sure she doesn’t trip on it, she better remember not to walk in front of Scott.
Smokey joins Joss on stage. According to the girls from the IMDb board (and probably a bunch of guys too) Smokey has really nice eyes, something I didn’t notice last night, probably because of that taking notes for my recaps thing that I do.
I concur: he does have nice eyes. I don’t like the earrings though. On men, I much prefer small, simple hoops over these chunky bead-type creatures that both him and Adam are wearing. But the eyes are indeed great.
Why does Smokey have cotton wool in his ears? He doesn’t like Joss’ singing? Me neither, actually, never been a big fan of hers. It’s not that she’s bad or anything like that, but in this post-Amy Wino era, I get bored very quickly with singers who don’t booze, snort, or strip while on stage.
Stone and Smokey’s performance is over. Stone and Smokey… That’s a catchy name, they should team up and go on tour… Or start their own cartoon, like they could the Beavis and Butthead of soul music. Or I could just shut up and and try and stick with recapping the show…
That’s what happens when I have to recap filler: bored by what I’m watching, I try to amuse myself by making up stories that are way more interesting than the stuff I’m supposed to be recapping, and I end up getting lost in my own shit rather than the shit on TV. Blame Idol and their fucking one hour results shows.
Come on Ryan, let’s do something that’ll keep me focused on the program for a few minutes. Something fun, like… I got it, let’s kick some people out!
Ryan is fondling the last empty, but soon-to-be-be-taken Stool of Bottom 3-dom, while staring salaciously into the camera, and whispering promises of sending someone home… right after the break. He discreetly points at Michael before we’re off to commercials.
Ryan: America; here are two thirds of your bottom 3. What do you think?
Ryan: Allison… Last week, you were in the bottom 3. This week, you’re not. Congratulations.
Anoop Dog… When the hell did you go from Anoop to Anoop Dog? This is the stupidest nickname like, ever, and yet, I can’t stop saying it. Anyway, you’re safe, although according to Rebel Without A Clue, you shouldn’t be.
Anoop: Who the heck is Rebel Without A Clue?
Ryan: Never you mind. Sit down.
Rebel Without A Clue: Shit… That means Megan’s toast, right, Ryan?
Ryan: Nah, it’ll be Michael; he’s taking some Christian votes away from Danny and Kris and it’s dividing the fundamentalist voting base. Last week, we needed to shrink our large pool of single mothers on the show, so we booted Alexis. This week, it’s the white Bible-thumping males we have too many of, and the one who’s by far the most expendable is Michael. At least, Danny and Kris can be kinda fun and goofy once in a while, whereas Michael is always boring, whether he’s on stage or off. I think the other contestants might be having more fun without him around, bringing everyone down with his never ending “Death on an oil rig” stories.
It’s Danny’s turn. The audience goes crazy at the mere mention of his name. Then they go crazier when Ryan tells them that’ll have another opportunity to go crazy at the mere mention of his name next week. And then the week after. And then the week after. And then…
Scott is up next. I’d say he’s safe. Just like dead wives, blindness strikes me as an effective way to fool audiences into believing that you can actually sing.
Ryan first reminds Scott that Simon called his performance “cheap hotel-esque”, which makes Scott grin like a madman; he then says the same thing to Megan, only replacing the non-adjective “cheap hotel-esque” by an actual, more common adjective: “horrible”. Megan replies by making faces at the camera and giving the judges the finger.
Ryan pursues: “However, no matter how harsh the term “horrible” may come across, it seems like “cheap-hotel-esque”, although it’s not an actual word, was a real-put off for America, Scott. You’re in the bottom 3, brother.”
WHAT? Scott? Really? I must say I’m very surprised… First Matt, and now Scott…? They sure rigged this show in a unpredictable way tonight… Either that or America voted weird. Or maybe Vote For The Worst, whose current pick is Megan, have more influence than I gave them credit for? Or Idol thought there were too many guys in the competition? Who knows… But I don’t care, my girl Megan is still in the running, and Adam and Allison are safe, so all my favourites will be back next week.
Ryan asks Randy: “Which of these three boring white males do you think is the least boring?”
Randy: For you for me, I think Matt has been rocking the mike consistently, and he worked it out last night. So I’d rather be bored by him again, than by the other two.
Ryan: Will Matt be sent back to safety? Yes? No? No? Yes? Perhaps. But before I tell you, let’s have a laugh at Scott’s expense. Scott?
Ryan: Let’s play a game: if you can find the bench where the safe contestants are sitting, by yourself, without falling off the stage, you get to come back next week. If not, it’s good-bye Scott. Are you ready? GO!
Immediately, all the safe singers get up on the benches and start yelling: “Scott! SCOOOTT! Here! Walk towards where our voices come from! We don’t want Michael to come back, so we’ll guide you here… Careful, there’s an obstacle com… STOP! NOW! You need to go up one step, and you’re good… Yyyyy… YES! Bravo, Scott, You made it!”
While the Idols all huddle up around Scott and mess up his hair, turning his mini-afro into a full-size one, Ryan announces that we’ll find out about Matt’s fate after the break.
20. 43. Ryan: Simon, where’s your head at? Would you waste the save on one of these boys?
Simon’s reply is likely nonsensical, because all my notes say is: “Blah, blah, blah.”.
Simon is getting on my nerves these days, and I can’t quite figure out why. In fact, all the judges are getting on my nerves these days. The one who irritates me the least is actually Paula, of all people. At least she’s fun and spontaneous and crazy. She keeps things a little unpredictable and interesting, in the midst of all these tired old adjectives and interjections, such as “Dawg” and “yo” and “pitchy” and “marketable” and “artistry” and “cruise-ship-y” and “hotel lounge-y” and so on. It’ll be really boring without her next season.
Oh, well, time for another non-Idol-related performance: Stevie Wonder, doing a Motown medley, because you can never get too many Motown medleys in one hour… *Sigh*… Seriously, these fucking never ending results shows where there are virtually no results are really pissing me off. I love Stevie and all, but all I want to see right now, is Matt getting sent back to safety, Michael singing his song, not getting saved by the judges, and telling us that he had fun anyway, and that he doesn’t care about going home now that he knows he’ll be on the tour. And then, I can get out of here and go to my friend’s to drink some beer and play Guitar Hero.
Unlike me, the Idols are loving Stevie, especially Kris who’s really into it, singing and dancing and seemingly having a great time. It’s very difficult for me to admit, but as much as I was determined to hate the living fuck out of this guy early this season, it looks more and more like I’m failing miserably. That sneaky little bastard is making me like him, in spite of me, which should only make me hate him even more, except that it’s not working.
But enough about that little snake Kris and his sly charming ways, and back to Stevie and his Motown medley. For some reason, I’m reminded of the last Grammy Awards, where it seems to me Stevie performed this exact same medley I’m hearing here… But I could be wrong. It starts off with My Cherie amour, followed by Superstition, which gets almost everyone up on their feet. Kara is wiggling in her seat, Paula is giving Simon a lap dance, and Kris is completely losing his shit and dancing like a madman. He must be a Stevie fan, ‘cos’ everytime the camera is on him, he is mouthing the lyrics.
Stevie goes on to sing Overjoyed; arm in arm, Allison and Megan are goofing around and making faces at the camera. Paula and Kara, who too got up, are engaged into some kind of girl-girl Dirty Dancing action, which has got Simon and Randy staring at them, mouth gaping, while absent-mindedly fondling each other’s privates. A very obviously uncomfortable Michael attempts to discreetly sneak out, but sneaking ain’t easy when you’re the dimension of a small tractor. Ryan spots him, grabs him by the sleeve, and points at him, then at the stool, a severe look on his face. Sheepishly, Michael makes his way back to his stool, sits down, and whispers in Matt’s ear: “It was worth a shot, I guess.”
Stevie, between two lyrics, shouts: “I love you Barack Obama!”
The door at the back of the Kodak theatre swings open, and in comes Barack Obama. He walks down the main aisle, stops in front of the stage, and shouts back at Stevie: “I love you too, Stevie Wonder!”. He then turns towards Simon, and says: “As for you Mr… Cowell, I regret to tell you that I do not like you. Please never ask me out for dinner again. As the gay man who hosts this show said earlier, it will be a frosty Friday in hell until I even consider the possibility.”
Ryan takes a step on the stage, clears his voice, and timidly intervenes: “I… ahem… I’m not… gay… Mr. President.”
Obama turns towards him, smiles, and replies: “It’s OK, Mr. Seacrest. I understand why you’d feel uncomfortable admitting it in public after 8 years of the Bush administration, but I promise you that I’m a progressive man, and that gays rights are at the very top of my agenda. Unfortunately, with the state the economy is in, I haven’t really been able to focus on that thus far. But I pr…”
Ryan: Mr. President… I’m really not gay…
Obama: I see… Well, I won’t pressure you, Mr.. Seacrest. Whenever you’re ready. But as I said, don’t worry, it is on my agenda.
Ryan: But I’m…
Obama: Oh, almost 9pm, I must be on my way. I’m flying to Europe soon, I have to go help Michelle pack. But thank you all for having me, good night, and God bless!”
And just like that, Obama walks out. Everyone is like, flabbergasted, except Scott and Stevie who are screaming: “Who was it? Fred Armisen? Come on, tell us! Was it Fred Armisen? Whoever it was, he was good! So, who was it?”
After the initial moment of surprise has passed, everyone in the place starts to excitedly comment about Obama’s appearance, drowning Scott and Stevie’s voices, as well as the rest of the song in their chatter. Ryan has to shout into his mike, in order to be heard: “We’ll be right back, America!”
Ryan tells us that last week’s elimination was a very tense moment, completely unlike this week’s elimination, which couldn’t be more predictable since we all know Big Mike is going home.
Then guess what? Big Mike is in the bottom of the bottom 3. Like, duh! Ryan asks him to sing his “Please-save-me-judges-although-I-couldn’t-care-less-since-I’ve-made-the-tour” song, but Big Mike is kinda being a chicken about it.
“Ryan, dude… I… I really don’t want to go after Stevie Wonder. It’s like going after Adam, y’know? Like… totally unfair? I don’t mind going home, but I’d really rather not sing now… I’ll ev…”
Ryan: Of all the weeks the show overran, which is every one of them, you have to pick the one where we actually are on schedule, to decide to be a big prissy baby? Well, sorry, but no. We have apparently run out of filler, which I personally never thought was possible on this show, but that’s by the by. So you’re gonna have to sing, buddy, whether you want it or not. Go on!
Big Mike pouts at Ryan, but obliges and sings his song.
Ryan: Hey! Judges! So? To save or not to save?
Simon: We haven’t decided yet.
Kara: No, we’re still debating about his artistry.
Randy: Actually, it’s his pitchiness that I’m questioning, for me for him.
Paula: And I’m not sure if the colour of his shirt really brings out the colour of his eyes as much as I would like.
Rebel Without A Clue: Good-bye Michael!
Audience: Keep him!
Megan: No, don’t! Send him home!
Simon: OK, this isn’t going anywhere, so Michael, I’m gonna make a decision in the name of all these flaky idiots, including that stupid blogger who keeps interfering with the show: you’re going home, I’m sorry.
Rebel Without A Clue: I knew it!
Simon: You, shut up.
Rebel Without A Clue: You, fuck off. Catch me if you can.
Now let’s all have a cry while watching Michael’s bye-bye clip. Big Mike doesn’t seem upset whatsoever at the idea of getting away from all this circus, and going back to his wife and kids for a while, since he knows full well that he’ll get another (groupie-filled) break from them during the upcoming Idol tour.
Ryan: So, how are you takin’ it? Does it hurt?
Michael: Like that bitchy blogger said, I don’t really care. I’m going back home, see the wife and the kids, chill a bit, and in the summer, I go on tour! And I really hope there’ll be lots of groupies, and that they’ll all be wearing pink bunny ears. I’d love to see a groupie up close. They never have them on the old oil rigs. No more than they have bunnies. Or even ears for th…
Ryan: Listen, if you wanted to do a monologue instead of a song, you should have said so earlier. Now, we’re out of time. So go hug the other contestants and help maintain the illusion that you guys actually get along and like each other.
The top 9 reluctantly drag their feet towards Michael, and mutter some half-assed “Too bad, bro” while awkwardly shaking his hand, apart from Megan who’s skipping around the group while flapping her arms and singing: “Ding-dong! The oil-rig guy’s gone! VFTW victory!!!”
Bullshit aside, I must give it to Michael, and say that he is being very graceful about going home. He doesn’t even go slam his fist on the judges’ desk and call them indecisive twats, like I would have probably done myself. Instead, he’s all smiles and hugs and “Thank you for the opportunity!”
But as Ryan announces that we’ll be back next Tuesday with performances of songs from the iTunes’ top 100, or something, Michael silently creeps behind him, does the “V” sign, and whispers while grinning at the camera: “See you on tour, Fuck Bunnies!”