jennifer lopez

This is not good. This really is not good. When the night starts off with the singtestants who have been voted off in the prior weeks: Gloria Estefan, Jr., Earth Mother Naima, Not Diana Ross, Pocohantas, Clever Girl, and the man you shield your child’s eyes from, it is not a good sign for the rest of the night. They came out screaming Pink’s redemption song, “So What,” and I couldn’t agree more. No, you are not a rock star. Not at all. In fact, you didn’t even win the tenth season of American Idiot. Who’s gonna win, asks the Fly Girl. The reason she asks is because no one knows. That’s how bad this week was.

Let’s just reflect for a moment on the twatwaffle that is Paul McCreepster. He was brought back and allowed to wear the only clothes in his bedazzled hobo bag. You see, after spending his last sheckels on this Elvis Impersonator knock-off, it’s all he’s has to wear (the last one being his selection for last night’s thing of my nightmares). Here’s the evidence:

Look McCreepster. We see you AND your magic suit of roses. We do. Now, go take a nap somewhere with Solange Knowles, Karina Smirnoff and the Karadashians. Moving on to the performances that actually matter.

I will not slash your tires this week:

It’s so nice that Courtney Love got a weave and a gig singing back-up for Idol singestants. She did a great job singing with that little trollop from high school, Hailey. Hailey has the crazy phantom Mariah hand but the love-child of Joan Osborn and Natasha Bedingfield chose a song that fit that gritty voice of hers and oh how she growled. How has she not lost her voice yet? Better yet, why? Adele will always and forever do everything better than this little captain of the cheerleaders, including breathing, but her performance didn’t make you scrunch your face up and cry into a pillow like when she stole your boyfriend.

One thing that is missing on the regular from Idol is someone who brings the R&B. And not in the Luther/Teddy Bear way but someone more like an Usher or a Ne-Yo. Not since that kid who wore the hat every week has any man tried to dance and sing at the same time. No, not George Huff. The other guy. So for that reason, I appreciated Stefano’s performance. Plus, arms.

Have an antifreeze-laced smoothie:

Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt has completed his move into Adam Lambertsville. He unpacked his chains, hung the leather curtains and sound-proofed the boudoir. What in the Mad Max and the Thunderdome is this, anyway? Watch if you dare, but I do not recommend it. My ears are bleeding and every dog in the neighborhood is at my door.

Get that aw-shucks-country-bumpkin offa mah tee vee. “Run around like you did for you last girlfriend,” says The Old Lady to Alfred E. Newman. Oh right. Like he’s had one. YOU HAD A DECADE WORTH OF SONGS AND THIS IS WHAT YOU PICKED?! This was something that some dudes in Nashville drummed up over their Starbucks venti mocha frappaccinos one afternoon. And shut up, audience. Stop clapping. You too, mee-maw. You know what? You are all kicked out. Every last one of you. My laser site (relax, it’s a cat toy) was on Alfred E. Newman’s wiggly bobblehead within 2 seconds of him singing “we were swinging.” I wish I could sweep his legs like Ralph Macchio did at the end of Karate Kid. Wax on, get off.

Jacob is a trickster. He knew what day it was. He knew was Luther’s birthday yesterday. He chose that day to bring out his Luther and it was so NOT Luther. I suppose Jiminy Cricket just gave up and gave in to Jacob and his cheeseballs. So he got to tell us that his father died when he was young, and that he wanted to sing this song for him. That’s sad, truly. But to sing this song about Luther’s deceased father, on Luther’s birthday, and dedicated to his own deceased father? Pass the bottle.

Speaking of hitting the bottle, The Old Lady got bleeped twice. TWICE! This is American Idol, lady. A family show. Despite Fozzie Bear’s increasingly crazy eyes (during a Maroon 5 song?), the judges tripped over themselves to praise the gingerbread headed wonder. No talking about choosing a Maroon 5 song, huh? Nothing at all? And adding to the silliness, Seacretin came out wearing a beard. No, Julianna Hough was not draped over his shoulders. He was making a funny by fake gluing on a fake beard. Oh Seabiscuit, we are so on to you.

So little Lauren got a gift certificate to Wet Seal and sang some stupid song that would have made Simon’s eyes roll so far back into his head that they would have been lost like your poor meatball all covered with cheese. This was 100% Velveeta and she knew it. Everyone knows it. Has anyone on this season’s Idol heard of any of the following country artists: The Dixie Chicks, Alyson Krauss, Dolly Parton? Apparently not. Truth is, there is no one here this season to put the fear of Gawd in their little patoots. Simon would have taken a lightsaber to this night. Here we are, a perilous six weeks away from the next Idol being crowned and we are being served up benign drivel in a denim and lace mini-skirt.

So the interns at Jive Records are staying up late tonight, trying to get ready for whichever singtestant manages to outlast the others. After tonight, there is no winning, there is only staying alive – and by that, I mean those of us who watch the show every week.

**Author’s note: Upon review, I have noticed that I have twice practically quoted The Old Lady’s comments. I’m going to take some time, get jury duty drunk, and think about my life choices.

Bottom Three: Jacob, Alfred E. Newman (ohpleaseohpleaseohplease), Stefano

UPDATE: For the love of humanity, Idol. As if “Soul Sister” has not invaded every elevator, commercial, grocery store and orifice in America, you inflict it upon us. And it only gets worse, I don’t care how you feel about Coldplay (you’re probably wrong) but to have Baby Lock Them Doors to utter any lyrics from this band is like a lizard walking upright. I saw my future, and it was not pretty.

So Jacob gets his chance to speak the most, which everyone knows, means he’s on the chopping block. Diva? Defend yourself. Technical glitch? Defend yourself. Also, sit down…in the ejector seats.

Oh David Cook is there! Remind me again of who he is, mamma forgets. He’s last season’s winner? You don’t say? Why is every single thing he did on Idol better than that crap he sang? He looked hot, though.

Okay! Back to the dramz. Whatever on the dramz – Stefano got sent to the plastic chair of death. Surprise, surprise, surprise – not!

Then normally candy coated Katy Perry came out as Sigourney Weaver from Alien and sang with fake Kanye. Wait a minute! Kanye showed up in his ferret pelt coat that has been around the world maybe on too many times. I get the feeling that thing stinks as bad a roadkill. Good performance, though (for the people there).

The show returns and they do the lovefest “dim all the lights” [sweet darlin’ cuz tonight is on its way]. Our little rigatoni is going home. Our David Archuletta the Second is gone. Is R&B dead? Is it? Ursher seems to be doing okay but maybe this genre is experiencing a lull. Maybe, perhaps ‘Muricah wasn’t ready for the Italian Stallion to sing and hip thrust. So here we are. Carol King is next up. Best be ready to cut a bish.