By Miss Alli
Previously on American Idol: Clay Aiken was the bane of my existence, and I felt alone in the world.
Ryan "Muppet-Boy" Seacrest announces that "the wait is over" and the show is back. People are doing the wave. The wave, y'all. Because "wooooo!" is still just a little too edgy. , they'll be throwing Rubik's Cubes and setting their Bermuda bags on fire, those crazy teenagers. Muppet-Boy recaps last night's adventures in New York, which you know all about already. Wow, so this year's twins really did suck. Shack may hate me for the things I get to recap, but I have only admiration for all he has already survived. And damn, if there isn't a rule that says "Thou shalt not scat on American Idol," there really should be. And it should be enforced by firing squad. The girl on the scooter, however, I will take with my bare hands. "What will we find in this crowd tonight in Atlanta?" Muppet-Boy asks. Despair, tiny Muppet, despair! I'm telling you, every time I see him, I just expect him to start singing something alphabet-related.
Intro sequence. Well you can rock 'em, roll 'em all night long, you're the -- liquid metal man! Or, possibly, woman. I like how Liquid Metal Man or Woman walks through a gauntlet of American flags. Because "A Moment Like This" is all about patriotism, you know. Support our troops by watching girls in hoochie shirts.
"Atlanta," says the screen in Copperplate Gothic Bold. Muppet-Boy notes that we've ventured to Atlanta, Georgia. "Atlanta," says Randy as he deplanes. Wait, where are we again? Annapolis? Albania? Hello? Hint, please! Muppet-Boy claims that in the past, Atlanta has been "a fertile ground" for talent. (Ohhhh, Atlanta, that's it.) He also points out that the first round of auditions were held at the Georgia Dome. Not at the Ted? That's a bummer. That would have been awesome, because the auditioners would undoubtedly have proved to be the only people in history who couldn't do the tomahawk chop in tune. I doubt they could do "Airball! Airball! Airball!" in tune, either. Anyway, Georgia Dome. We are reminded that not everyone who has ever emerged from Atlanta has sucked as much as these people look like they probably do, just from panning across their faces. Tamyra came from Atlanta, after all, and so did...oh, right, Clay "Irritating Pipsqueak" Aiken. Oh, by the way, the Irritating Pipsqueak is sniveling and crying in the clip of him that they show as a reminder, so someone in the editing room feels my pain. God bless you, pain-feeler. We will get through it together. In two years, no one will know who he is anyway, so I'm confident we can survive. , as if you haven't seen Keith's "Like a Virgin" audition enough times already, Muppet-Boy reminds us that he, too, came from Atlanta. Yes, yes, he came from Atlanta, and he was bad. I think I have seen this audition at least seven times, which is six more times than I found it even remotely funny. Muppet-Boy refers to his "hometown" and wonders aloud what it will bring to the table this year.
The first thing it will be bringing to the table is mini-Cyndi Lauper, also known as Amy Adams, a pert lass of, oh, thirty-four or so who believes passionately in her belly button and her smear of purple hair. She's wearing low-slung jeans and a black-and-white striped off-the-shoulder shirt. Her outfit says, "My top half is in a French café, while my bottom half just turned thirteen years old and is celebrating with sparkly Wet-N-Wild nail polish from Wal-Mart." Amy is totally the Annie Potts to Vanessa Olivarez's Molly Ringwald. She proudly (yes, proudly) holds up a mirror on which her mother has written, "I Am An American Idol." Nothing says "confidence" like bringing your mom's craft projects with you. Amy runs into the audition room with her breasts bouncing energetically up and down just like the rest of her. Foundation garments, people. Seriously. For whatever reason, Amy's opening joke is that she and Muppet-Boy collaborated ahead of time, and she seems to have something in mind that she's going to say after that, but Simon cuts in: "On makeup tips?", and he throws off her joke, and she doesn't know what to say, so she moves on. Specifically, she tells Simon that he's "gorgeous in real life." Oddly, I totally believe that could be true in its way. A dubious Simon looks around like, "Does she expect that to work? Who does she think I am, Paula Abdul?" Amy announces that she will be singing "Rescue Me." Meta-Statement Alert! Bwooop bwooop! Amy turns out to be an adequate singer, although it's all brass, and I could only listen to her for about two minutes before becoming tired and needing to rinse out my brain with Rosemary Clooney or something. And there is some seriously pitchy stuff going on, especially at the beginning. Randy votes aye, and Paula declares that Amy is "fun." Amy's going to Hollywood, and Simon's rueful chuckle suggests that he likes her, but is already tired of her, and thus is just now remembering what this show feels like. Me, too, Simon. Oh, me, too. Amy "squeeeeeeeee"s into the camera and basically kills whatever goodwill anyone may have been feeling for her up until this point. In the lobby, she gets hugs.
Allegedly humorous, allegedly Zen-like music plays as Muppet-Boy shows us Simon Thomas, who looks a few years older than Amy, and who is currently contemplating his upcoming audition. In an interview, he predicts that the judges will tell him he has "a really good heart." You can totally tell that a guy has a good heart from his musical performances, by the way. That's why women are always saying no one is more trustworthy than a guy in a band. Simon-T is wearing beige pants and a black t-shirt, and he has a kind of a junior-intellectual appearance, what with the beard and glasses and receding hairline. You know, I only wish more associate professors could audition for American Idol. Paula says, and she is really so funny, that she might already hate him because his name is Simon. That crazy Paula. Simon-T weakly protests that "Simon is a really beautiful English name." Paula asks him what "Simon" means, and he says, "The one who listens." Oh, mildly ironic, har har! Paula and Randy laugh, because that's the funniest thing they've heard all day. No, really. It probably is.
Simon-C asks Simon-T why he came to the auditions. Why? To share a song he wrote. Eye-roll. It's no fun when you can pick out the bad auditions before they open their mouths. His song is about "compassion and tolerance." And booty. No, no, not really. It's not about booty. It would be better if it were about booty, but it's not. The only thing I like about this segment once Simon-T starts singing is that Randy takes this opportunity to pull from the shelf his facial expression labeled, "Stunned Horror/Disbelief." And when Simon-T gets to "I'm a part of you and you're a part of me," Simon-C has that raised-eyebrow thing going, like, "Kill me. But not until I kill my agent." At the end, Simon-C tries to keep from breaking out in hysterical laughter as he says, "As someone who understands compassion...I find it odd...[sound of laughing]...that you can come in here and sing to us." Simon-C tells him it was "painful," and Simon-T looks placid, as he does throughout the segment. "Everything was wrong," Simon-C says flatly. Simon-T says that although they may not be impressed with his voice, he has an awesome heart. He cares about compassion and puppies. That's why he is here to audition for Organic Idol. "It is a singing competition, and you can't sing," Simon-C tells him. True, that. Out in the hall, A resilient Simon-T tells Muppet-Boy that he still thinks the judges were "really touched." Is Muppet-Boy wearing lifts or standing on a phone book or something? Because he looks like he's normal-sized in this segment, and I'm somehow convinced he would look teeny in real life. Maybe Simon-T is just a really, really old-looking third-grader.
Because the woman has now been revealed to be a big faker, I'm not recapping her. The last thing I want to do is encourage assholes by paying attention to them. I don't begrudge anyone their pranks (not that this one was very imaginative), and I know she's not the only faker. But fakers do make the show less fun for everyone else, and she's been way too self-congratulatory about it ever since it happened, so for just that simple reason, she can bite me.
When we get back from commercials, Muppet-Boy says that as they accepted people from Atlanta, they became convinced that they had gotten over "the curse of Keith." Mercifully, they do not show his audition yet again, although you can tell they barely restrained themselves. It appears that they have pegged as the new Keith one young Tiffany, who arrives with pigtails and a bandanna tied on her head. She's doing a whole Cinderella-in-the-ashes thing. "I'm going to sing Céline Dion's 'All By Myself,'" she says. Ah, yes, that great composer, Céline Dion, originator of so many fine songs. Tiffany apparently decided not to do Céline Dion's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," or Céline Dion's "River Deep, Mountain High." (Yes, there is a Céline Dion version of "River Deep, Mountain High." If you don't have Rhapsody from Listen.com, you totally should, for moments just like this.) Tiffany opens her mouth and begins to sing. Tiffany's rendition of "All By Myself" is the kind that makes you realize that indeed, in seventh grade, this girl was undoubtedly the shit. There's something about her voice that sounds like a singer, even though she can't sing. In seventh grade, it would have passed, and probably, her friends would have said, "You are totally going to be a singer!" But ultimately, she's very bad.
It's always very difficult to explain what makes a bad singer bad, but here's my explanation with Tiffany. First of all, horrifying pitch problems. But not as bad as most people's pitch problems, so it's not mostly that. Second of all, way too much flutter. But, hey -- whoever that red-headed snot was who came in second last year, he had more flutter than a Kleenex in a wind tunnel, so that's not a deal-breaker. What I think it is, mostly, is an inability to hit one note at a time. Her tone is very...very fat, by which I mean that it's very breathy and imprecise, and always seems to be spread over several pitches at once. Good singers hit notes like, "zing!" Tiffany hits them like, "waaaaaaffffkkk." Put those three things together with her hilariously melodramatic pantomime of the song, and you have a damn painful performance. It's just...bad. She also does a hilarious pre-singing ritual of getting herself set that totally reminds me of that crazy girl who won the National Spelling Bee one year who used to put her hands over her mouth between every letter. Those home-schoolers. Anyway, in fairness to Tiffany (and everyone who ever thought she was the shit), her singing is not as ridiculous as Keith's. She sucks, but she is not insane. And...okay, her high note at the end takes her into the realm of farce, I will admit. The judges ream her, and she appears genuinely shocked. Aw, that's always sad. Paula tries to let her down easy; Randy gives it to her straight, telling her to never audition for anything again. She pleads nervousness. Oh...no, dear.
In the lobby, Muppet-Boy converses with a high-voiced African-American kid who claims that he doesn't want fame, he just wants to make people happy. And so -- hey, just like that Clay Aiken kid! -- he decided that the best way to lead the world to greater happiness was to become a huge star and make wads and piles of dough for himself. Some people are so generous. Y'all know how I hate Seacrest, by the way, but he shoots a very funny look at the camera during this interview that made me kind of want to blow him a kiss. (Hey, people, get your minds out of the gutter and read the whole sentence.) I know; I'll get over it. This kid -- whose name turns out to be Payton -- heads into his audition. He sings "Somewhere Over The Rainbow," or at least he sings the words "somewhere over the rainbow," although the tune is pretty much unrecognizable as any tune, let alone as the tune of that particular song. "Tuneless" does not even begin to describe it. Well, I suppose it begins to describe it, if you repeat the word "tuneless" enough times. His eyes also roll back in his head at one point, and I think that's considered a bad sign. At the end of the performance, Simon gives Payton a Chandler's-Janice-style "Oh...my...God," and tells him how horrifying he is. Like Tiffany, Payton actually seems surprised, which again is sad. Simon repeats what he tells several people every year, which is that they're the worst ever. Simon must be getting tired of hearing the worst singer ever every single year.
And now, a quick montage of the especially bad. "Ribbon In The Sky," with no melody. A very literal Michael Jackson impersonation, complete with crotch-grabbing...through khakis. Can you grab your crotch through khakis? That seems incongruous to me, and a little bit wrong. A guy actually on his knees begging to be let through. Simon then tells us in an interview that this year's song that was most mercilessly butchered was "A Whole New World." The first guy who kills it is my favorite kind of bad auditioner -- the low-energy guy who sings like he's been forced to take a music class in order to graduate, and he just wants to get out as soon as possible. Then, a large guy with a sparkly top hat that he waves around as a prop. Hmm, I think somebody spent a few too many years in show choir. A guy who tries to throw in Paula's name. As so often happens, I am starting to run low on "oy." Some other very bad singers. A guy who sings like Donald Duck, which I have no interest in hearing very much of, but which I kind of have to admire. Many other bad people, presented split-screen and singing all at the same time. Now I know how the judges feel. Make it stop! I do love the way they end the montage with one guy saying, "Now I'm in a...," one guy saying, "uh...something about 'horizons,'" and one guy saying "with yoooooooou!" Kinda funny. I once scared the crap out of Mr. Tall-and-Beautiful on a long car ride, by the way, with my exact replica of the movie performance of the Princess Jasmine half of that song. I'm still not sure he's entirely recovered.
When we return from commercials, a geeky dude with a backwards baseball cap is smiling uncomfortably while awkwardly wiggling his way through "Do You Love Me?" No, really -- he's wiggling. And his name is Robert Browning. But not that Robert Browning. At least I don't think it's that Robert Browning. This Robert Browning gets to the end of his bit, singing, "Nooooooow...that IIIIIIIIII...can daaaaaaaance..." And then he stops. And the judges don't react. And it becomes agonizing. And then, just as chipper as he can be, still totally game, he tentatively throws out the obligatory, "Watch me now!" This makes the judges laugh. Me, too. That's the kind of stuff I love, because you cannot make it up.
up is "Hot Stuff" Girl, who has long scraggly hair and a denim newsboy cap, and a denim skirt with faded thigh prints, as if she's spent too much time sitting with something bleachy on her lap. Her name is Yuliya, and she -- wait for it -- cannot sing. Also, she is using the always-unnecessary prop chair. It's not burlesque, people. Don't make me bring in the stripper pole. I finally get my favorite audition payoff when Simon says that Yuliya was "ghastly." I love hearing him say "ghastly." In fact, I can forgive him all his asshole moments every time he says "ghastly." Ghaaaaastly.
A couple of guys out in the lobby remark that things don't seem to be going too well in Atlanta, and that this may not be their year. Muppet-Boy says that "thankfully, like a breath of fresh air, in walked Laketa." She sings "Where Do Broken Hearts Go?," and it is true that she is better than most. But...but...but not so much pitch-wise. There's so much wobble in her voice that I think she's covering a lot of not so much knowing what the note is. She's another one (although much, much, MUCH better than Tiffany) who sings like a singer, but who I'm not sure sings all that brilliantly. Paula does call her out on pitch, and Randy agrees. I think they know she's not quite as good as her overblown delivery promises. And her floaty two-tone blue dress with the down-to-there neckline is a little too Vegas-cocktail-lounge for me, as well.
Out in the lobby, a meaty-lookin' kid mugs for the camera, talking about how nervous he is. When he gets into his audition, we learn that his name is Alan, and Simon immediately predicts that Paula will love him. Indeed, he's nicely turned out. Nice shoulders, yum. Alan confirms for Paula that he is single. Ooh, he has a little southern accent, too. Hm. Paula interviews that indeed, he was hot. Yes, Paula, we noticed. Randy and Simon, she explains, left the table so that Alan could just sing to her. And what does he sing to her? "You Are The Sunshine Of My Life." Ohhhh, damn. He's not terrifically good, but...but...it's Stevie Wonder. I mean, it's not Stevie Wonder, but it's a Stevie Wonder song, and when it comes to love songs, I am all about Stevie Wonder. Really. Make a note. It therefore doesn't surprise me that Paula is reduced to a puddle. Which she is. They ham it up with him pretending he can't stand having Simon and Randy tear him away from her, and so forth. At the end, all the judges deem him pretty good, but they also tell him to un-fancy his singing and sing straighter. Which is good advice for everyone, Kelly Clarkson. And Alan is, in fairness, cute. Cute, cute. He may well belong in the category of "hot, but not too bright," but then again, I've been wrong before. They send him through to Hollywood.
And then, we actually see my favorite guy of the entire night, who is a random, unidentified mediocre singer, wailing away with all his might on a sexy funk song about the older lady he loves. And when I say "older," I'm talking, older. "Your body is wrinkly [really, more "wrink-lay"], your hair so white, I am lovin' a granny toni-i-ight." He rocks. I love him, because he is random. They won't send him to Hollywood, and they totally should. He would be better than most of the off-key Beyoncé and Jessica Simpson wannabes that they will end up promoting. There's something to be said for straight-up bizarre.
Simon addresses, in his interview, the challenge of not laughing at very bad contestants. He claims that he's normally pretty good about it, but sometimes, there's nothing he can do, no matter how much he thinks about (as he puts it) "puppies being drowned." Simon's giggles are at the center of the tale of poor Danny Parker. Danny is monotoning his way through "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On You" (wow, current!) when Simon and Randy both start to laugh. Danny, you see, is one of these bland, pasty kids who has a range of about half an octave, but you can just tell hears everything exactly correctly in his head. He sounds right to himself. He hears the band. I think he hears the crowd. I think he hears the cash registers ch-chinging when people buy his CDs. To top it all off, he is snapping. And nothing provokes hilarity, I am telling you, like a pasty dweeb who's snapping to the groove inside his head. Simon pinches his nose. He squints. He doesn't look at Danny, so as to be saved from the snapping. It's no good. Finally, Simon stops Danny as Randy actually gets up and leaves the table laughing. Danny looks really, truly wounded at this turn of events. Really. Paula, however, seems to think that Danny didn't get a fair shot or something, or else she's just mean, because she tells Danny to sing another song. Much to Danny's non-credit, he chooses to sing "Crazy." There are so many reasons why that's wrong. Randy gives up and just laughs hysterically. Even Paula laughs. Sigh. Finally, as they all laugh, Danny himself laughs, for which he definitely gets a point, dignity-wise. Randy asks him what went wrong, and Danny says it was his nerves. They do not send him to Hollywood. In an interview, Danny says that it's kind of hard to do your thing when people are laughing. I mean...it wouldn't have made any difference, but he's right. In his case, he can't sing, but...he asks for a public apology, and that will not be happening. Can you imagine if Simon issued public apologies every time he was an intentional asshole, let alone an accidental asshole like he was this time? They'd have to add a third show every week.
Bad fashion montage. Time for commercials.
We return to the crooning of "the proudest man on the planet," a bearded gentleman who is there in his coral polo shirt to watch his blonde daughter audition. He's singing a very creepy song to her about how she's his little girl and how much he loves her. "Lauren Danielle is daddy's baby girl," he sings. Yuck. That's...it's endearing, in its way, but creepy, too. Daddy's Baby Girl goes into her audition and introduces herself. Lauren Enswiler is her name, and she's singing "Summertime." Now here's the tragedy: Lauren can sing, at least to some degree. And "Summertime" is one of the most evocative melodies you're going to find anywhere. The melody is perfectly suited to the lyrics, and the tone is unique in American music, as far as I'm concerned. So it's kind of a shame that Lauren has to embellish it so much with her weird-ass flourishes and strange pronunciation quirks that the song is obscured. In fact, I'm not certain Lauren really knows this song. There's just an enduring lack of appreciation on the part of most of these people of the fact that the song should be able to survive your rendition of it. If you obscure the song, you have nothing. Richard Linklater said once -- in the context of Before Sunrise -- that if you can't write a movie that's comprised of a boy and a girl talking, you can't write movies. And I believe that if you can't impress people with a straight version of "Summertime" -- or "House of the Rising Sun," or "What'll I Do?" or anything else carries its punch in the melody -- then you can't sing. Do whatever you want to "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On You," for God's sake -- I won't care. But George Gershwin doesn't need help, thanks. And furthermore, Lauren is another one who is covering pitch problems with vocal wiggling. But hey, who cares what I think? They send her to Hollywood. On her way out, Lauren tells Randy not to lose any more weight. Suck-up. Outside, her daddy hugs her.
We now move to Terrance Gaines, who seriously does have the most adorable smile of all time, ever, bar none. Weirdly, Terrance will be singing "Sweet Painted Lady" by Elton John. Eh. Terrance is a good singer, but he badly needs a better song. Even a better Elton John song would help. He's a sweetheart crooner at heart, I think -- in a best-case scenario, Nat-King-Cole-ish -- and this particular Elton John song doesn't give him enough to do. But he's talented. And he seriously is wonderful to watch, just because he has a lovely, expressive face. Even Simon compliments his smile at the end of the song. And Simon never compliments people who smile, because it makes him feel like he should smile, and he hates smiling. Randy says no to Terrance, but Paula and Simon say yes. I find it weird that Randy said no to him -- he's obviously pretty talented, it's just a bad song. Terrance is, to me, by far the most endearing person of the hour, if nothing else. His excited reaction to making it to Hollywood is really funny and genuine. I dig him. He even seems to have won over the Muppet-Boy. And you know how difficult that is, since he has stuffing where his heart should be. And guess what? Terrance interviews that he just got back from Iraq. Aw, welcome home, kid.
In what may very well be the Worst Segue of All Time, Muppet-Boy compares Terrance's bravery in going to war with the judges' bravery in listening to bad contestant Pablo. Seriously, Muppet-Boy, no. No, no, no. Although in fairness, if that joke were ever going to be appropriate, it might be appropriate for Pablo, because Pablo is very bad. Very tuneless. Off in his own world. Holding an imaginary microphone. Weird-ass guy. They beat the crap out of him, and he slithers off into oblivion. I don't understand Pablo, really, but his exit pleases me.
up is Fantasia. I don't care for the plunging halter top, but I care even less for this version of "Proud Mary." To me, this is all just a lot of yelling. I don't at all dismiss the possibility that she will turn out to be awesome, but if she is, I can't tell from this. Randy says that "this competition would be far less interesting without her," and Simon says that he thinks she's one of the best ever. Huh? Best ever? Ah, well. That's why he's a professional. Well, she's going to Hollywood in any event. I'm fully prepared to be proved wrong, but for right now, I don't get what the big deal is. ["My feeling is that people named 'Fantasia' shouldn't be given any breaks in life, because if one of them ever really hits it big somehow, other parents might be encouraged to name other children 'Fantasia,' and that should not be." -- Wing Chun] I do enjoy her lobby reunion with her peeps, which seems to be one of the happiest of all time. I like happy peeps.
We return from commercials, and then it's time for Black Elvis. Seriously, he's in the Elvis costume and everything. You know where this is going, right? Disaster! Well, you're wrong. He can sing. He's not tremendous, but he's good, and his version of "Heartbreak Hotel" isn't nearly as painful as you'd think. And it takes a measure of flat-out insanity to show up in the Elvis costume and actually sing. His name is Marcus Butts, and even with the funny name, I think he's neat-o. Again, his singing has too much embellishment, but I like him. Randy points out that he "could have shown up as Bobo the Clown," because he has a good voice, and the implication seems to be that the Elvis bit is unnecessary. And to that, I say word, Randy Jackson. (Pardon me while I step aside so as not to be hit by lightning.) ([Steeeeeep.]) Paula thinks Marcus has "a brilliant voice." I don't know if I'd go that far, but I'm intrigued by him. They send him to Hollywood. "Don't bring the outfit!" Randy calls out as he goes. Heh. Yeah, no shit.
And now, Kimberly Caldwell Revisited. No -- no, really. Same blonde hair, same gravelly voice, same look like she just got back from Branson, Missouri. Heather gets a nice pervy pan up her bod as she prepares to audition. Way to go, Dirty Camera Guy. Heather sings "Black Velvet." It's like...well, it's like Kim Caldwell, only probably a little more genuinely whiskey-colored and a little less Disneyfied. Ultimately, it's comparable, though. Lots of exposed belly. Paula recommends that Heather change her hair color so that she doesn't look so Caldwellicious and invite unwelcome comparisons. They bring her to Hollywood, although Simon does tell her he finds her "affected," which I really appreciate, because yes. Yes, yes. She is affected, most definitely. Sometimes, I am so grateful for his contributions.
We have one more commercial, and then it's time for Andrew Chester. Oh, Andrew. Simon introduces him by saying that at some point, he keeps expecting that people will notice that you can't win in this competition unless you can sing, at least a little. But always, there are people who haven't noticed. "Can't...sing...a...note...in...tune," he says. Yep. Andrew explains that he has a weird talent, and then he pulls up his shirt to expose his belly. This wasn't the hot guy I got to recap, was it, Shack? Because Andrew is not hot. As it turns out, Andrew's talent is that...let's see, how would this talent be described? That he has no ribs? That his ribs start really high up? Or are those just really strong stomach muscles? Anyway, basically, Andrew can suck in his stomach so that there's about a six-inch column around his belly button, and the rest of his belly disappears into a concave black hole. It's disturbing, but distinctive. Much like many of your modern-day pop stars, so perhaps Andrew is not to be dismissed out of hand. "Huh," says Paula. There is a pause. "Just what we're looking for," Simon deadpans. Ha! Best line of the episode, hands-down. In more closely music-related matters, Andrew promises that he is in the "top tier" of people who will be auditioning. And what is Andrew singing? "Sweet Home Alabama." And he can't sing, let alone sing in tune, and he doesn't entirely seem to know the song, so he forgets the words, and he has no confidence, and his phrasing is positively bizarre, and...well, you get the idea. Train wreck.
Simon asks Andrew, essentially, how he could have ever concluded that he was in a position to win a singing competition. Andrew acknowledges that he may not be Clay or Ruben, but he thinks he's "on-the-show capable." "Of what?" Simon asks. Heh. "If you were to win this competition, you would close down the Fox network," Simon says. Simon tells him how terrible he is, and Randy backs Simon up. Andrew says he doesn't agree, but Simon insists that the audition has been an enormous waste of everyone's time, which may be a little too much, because when you hold open auditions, you do encourage people to take a flyer and show up. It's not like he called and begged for ten minutes out of your schedule. Out in the lobby afterward, Andrew gets a little weepy, saying that he "blew it." I think that clearly, Andrew thinks this has something to do with forgetting the words to the song. That certainly was the icing on the cake, but it didn't play a crucial role in what just happened to him. He confirms that he'll be back year. "It just wasn't meant to be," he says, experiencing a brief flash of sanity before returning to...something else entirely. Andrew insists that he is a good person, and that he's talented, and that they don't get it, and boo hoo hoo and so forth.
On his way out of the building, Andrew says that you will remember his name, Andrew Chester! But the pranksters in post-production bleep out his last name, just to be incredibly petty and spiteful, which is...well, pretty much awesome. I love post-production imps.
Muppet-Boy wraps up by saying Atlanta "has changed." He actually says he doesn't think they found the American Idol here, which seems a little harsh. Now I'm tempted to vote for all the Atlanta people just to spite him.
up: Houston. And Shack comes home to all of you. Lord have mercy on him.