Over 31 million votes came on Tuesday, the highest this season. What Ryan's not saying is that -- at least live ratings-wise -- old IGB was the lowest-rated episode of this show in a long while. Perhaps, like me, everybody's waiting until it seems like a good idea. Like when they are drunk.
Brooke ("You've Got A Friend") was pleasant, beloved, and Randy was not mad at her, a phrase which was played two years ago. Ryan wonders if she's going to have a breakdown, but no: her sister's getting married on Saturday, and she won't be there unless she gets eliminated. "Or maybe I will be there, let's find out." Even Ryan is like, you're doing really great tonight with the talking and not acting like a lunatic. He hands her his little card and she learns that she is safe, and then immediately goes back to being weird and wandering around talking to herself. I am so passionate about that girl, I'm really glad she has brought it back. The awesome singing and presence, I mean, not the other thing. The craziness I could take or leave, but I hope she gets some freakin' sleep, and that they let her go to that wedding.
Cook ("Innocent") is the whole package, Simon thought it was pompous -- which it was, because it always is -- and then Cook reminds us how he is also arrogant and smug, and then does a crossword puzzle about all the things that make him a chump and are standing in his way. Ryan says all those things are also things about Simon. Although this doesn't cause him to make out with Cook, he's safe.
Archuleta ("Some dumb song I can't even remember") is beloved by an exuberant adult homosexual in the audience who will now be going with the authorities. Randy thought it was "crazy crazy crazy hot." Also, he is safe, and his dad still looks like the lost Beatnik of the Village People.
Ryan calls our attention to the empty stools opposite the safety couches, but won't tell us what they mean. I hope that green Nickelodeon stuff falls on them. Ricki Lake! When did you turn totally freaking adorable? I want to have babies with Ricki Lake all of a sudden. Speaking of babies, Ladysmith goes wild on some film of horror somewhere. Forrest Whitaker tells us about a beggar child who is six years old in Angola; his dad lost his sight to a landmine. God. Forrest goes to visit them, looking svelte as usual, and they demonstrate for him how the three kids sleep on one very crappy mattress. Then Forrest just about loses it. It's pretty rough because he's so smart and good and valid and trustworthy that it makes it even worse. Like, if Terri Hatcher was showing us this it would be awful, but now it's like even awfuller because you have to feel bad on Forrest's behalf also. The chorus of "Pride In The Name Of Love" introduces us to a children's refuge where they do classes and have fun and eat food and stuff. Forrest is happy about that, but because he can count, he knows it's not really enough. Then all the little kids sing "We Are The World," which, when you put those words in the mouths of the people that it's about, is like the saddest song ever written.
Now, it's a pleasure for Ryan to introduce Jordin -- the reigning Idol -- singing a song about respiration while doing her labored best. She looks sexy-beautiful, which is new on her; Chris Brown will look fifteen for the rest of our lives. The backing track on Jordin's vocals is Ashlee amounts of ridiculous, and her moves onstage are lethargic at best, but she looks awesome, and I don't know jack about this song so who knows? At times they just stare at each other and let their tracks do all the work, and then at the end they get very touchy-stroky-feely, to a point where Ryan's like, "It is as if you two have met beyond this dumb song." It seems really repetitive and overproduced, but for some reason that's not enough for me this time. Then a bunch of fans bring a bunch of certification plaques up: platinum on downloads of that song and "Tattoo," and a gold record for her album. Ryan tries to say that this legitimizes the show, but I'll believe it when it's somebody who retains good ties to the franchise and their songs are actually good.
The pimpmercial jammy-jam just wants to celebrate another day of living, and involves Carly and Cook making dumb faces and everybody playing with paint. There's nothing that cool about it, except...when did Michael Johns lose ten years off his age? That happened sometime last week. It's so weird and welcome. I finally, finally get what those people were talking about at the beginning of the season. Plus I actually noticed his voice this week, for once. I hope he is so good week.
Jason ("Somewhere Over The Rainbow") bought that ukulele last week for a secret but large amount of money, was universally beloved, and is safe. "Safe" and "universal" being the operative words with Castro's shtick, which is getting tired. Maybe my shriveled heart only has so much room in it and I just kicked him out at some point and Michael moved in or something.
The Colonel ("Anyway") is up , provoking love/hate/cognitive dissonance with every movement and breath and sound she makes, and she is safe too. So all that's left is Syesha, Michael and Carly. Two out of three, I agree with, but I don't know who I would trade for Michael in this scenario.
Jim Carrey is something that I very much love, and it's always nice to see him. But even when he's trying to act like the straight man, it's unrealistic. He's like the only person who seems more realistic when he's being completely ridiculous, or acting. Like Archuleta, kind of. But not like Bono! Every time Bono opens his mouth, an angel dies of diabetes. Hillary Clinton wants you to help make the world a better place, or else, and would like to explain to you how donations work. McCain -- are you getting this? -- McCain makes a shitty joke about Florida votes and is egregious. Obama is a sweetheart. I can't believe all three of these people are able to look into the camera and say how amazing IGB is. I mean, they don't have a choice, but I'd be swallowing barf every second if it were me. I will never be president, though. Can you imagine that? My God. The year America got Waxman-Geschwind and wouldn't shut up about Tennyson and Eliot and depth psych.
Anyway, Michael and Carly and Syesha. Michael's actually wearing appropriately fitting clothing, which is good. Carly is dressed like a dork as usual, and Syesha is perfectly serviceable. Michael's "Dream On" was a misrepresentation, Syesha's "I Believe" was a huge mistake, Carly's "Show Must Go On" was freaky and unpleasant. Unless you were Paula, and then they are all superheroes. And then suddenly Carly and Syesha are safe, and Michael had the lowest number of votes this week. Paula is weirded out.
Ryan's like, "Last year we didn't eliminate anybody. Tonight..." No way, you cannot get rid of Michael just when he was getting good! That is awful! Take it back, Seacrest! Take it back! "...We say goodbye to Michael Johns." That was awful. I can't believe they let him twist for 48 hours like that under the assumption that he was going to be Given Back. That SUCKS. I'm really kind of grossed out by that. I mean, it's not like this show is so fucking legit that they need to twist it up and shoot Bill Adama in the face sometimes to get capital or whatever. It's American Idol: the opposite of keeping it real. That's gross.
You know, I don't normally get weirded out by the actual mechanics of this show, the hoops Ryan makes them jump through. The last time I was yucked out like this was the thing where Bo had to pick between the two groups, and that was half being grossed out by Bo as much as the show, but this is just stupid and shitty. I wish I had paid more attention to him while he was on the show. That bites. Even Simon's like, "Makes sense, but it sucks because you are awesome and a nice guy." Which for Simon is the equivalent of Paula writhing around on the floor with tears pouring down her face and her dress up over her head. Which, I mean, that's happening too, but the camera's on Simon. Michael goes all out with his singout, doing the catwalk and doing a great job. I hope he doesn't try the falsetto...well, he does, for like one second, and then thinks better of it. Good kid. I would have liked to know more about him than the silly faces and dumb dancing and the tennis obsession. You can tell the judges are torn up about it, sweetly enough, and over in the Temple Grandin Area David Cook is yelling some unrelated shit to somebody off-camera and could care less, which is fun.
So, that's seven now. I hope Brooke regains her momentum and Cook stays the course, I hope the Colonel continues to do good instead of evil, I hope David Archuleta and Jason grow a pair and cut out doing the same thing all the time, I hope Carly starts singing like she did tonight, and I hope Syesha goes home week because she is done. Stick a fork in that toaster already.
-- Jacob Clifton is a novelist and freelancer in Austin, TX. He saw the Kids In The Hall live last night and was excited to find that Bruce and Scott still look fabulous, but Mark has somehow turned into Jacob's father's doppelgänger. 30-year-old Jacob and 15-year-old Jacob have decided, after a brief discussion, that this makes neither of them retroactively creepy.