American Idol S02E16

Once upon a time, a bottle of Hard Candy Trailer Trash nail polish came to life and assumed an androgynous humanoid form, and then it walked among us and fed upon the flesh of the living. At least that's what I think this intro segment is trying to tell me. The title flashes across the American Idol logo to inform us that we are "Halfway Home." Meaning that it's time to put gas in the car, go to the bathroom, and try not to fall asleep at the wheel. If you fail in your endeavor to get home, of course, Fox will find you and beat the crap out of you, which will be no more hostile than what they did by making you watch Married By America. Wait, they didn't make you watch that? Hmm, I guess it was just me. Bastards.

Seacrest sproings onto the stage wearing black pants and a shirt that...well, let's see. The black half of his shirt is black. That's the easy part. The front of his shirt is red, and it has what I guess is a print of something that has a white block on each pec. (Or on the area where each pec would be, I should say.) And then there's some yellow writing, like a "1067," maybe, on his left breast. There's also a white "7" on the front. I should know what's going on with his shirt, I guess, but I'm just not hip to the young people anymore. To me, it sort of looks like this shirt has already been used as a rag as part of someone's mother's home improvement project. In the audience are signs, including, "WARREN HIGH, We're On TV!" (and going to detention), "Roo [205] Ben" (don't mind the fact that even Ruben thinks that's played), "In Josh We Trust" (all others pay cash), "Everybody Wants Clay" (as a hood ornament), and my personal favorite, "Simon, You Read My Mind." Heh. Seacrest The Muppet-Boy tells the audience they look wonderful, but he calls them "y'all." In order not to throw chaos into the lives of those who hail from Massachusetts or Detroit, he explains to anyone who's confused that they say "y'all" in Atlanta, where he's from. You certainly do learn something new every day, because I never heard of "y'all" before. I was sure he was talking about some kind of down-home southern vegetable, because you know how those people down there love their down-home vegetables. Yep. Gather 'round, everybody, because Grandma's makin' her famous Poached Y'all.

Muppet-Boy thanks us for tuning in, and tells anyone who is only watching because they were hoping to see Boston Public that they should watch anyway, because "what's the worst that could happen?" This is the cue, of course, for one of Muppet-Boy's patented extremely unfunny jokes that you know he's going to spin out endlessly like an entire sweater reduced to a single very long thread, and this time the joke is about Randy Jackson hula dancing naked. Oh-ho-ho, that Muppet-Boy is a funny one. I have to say that I find it entertaining that he so clearly thinks he's a hipster hottie when he's so obviously the Catskills' bitch. Not satisfied with the pain he has already wrought, Muppet-Boy makes some additional remarks along these lines, and then finally he gets to the point by informing us that it doesn't matter whether you want to see Randy naked or not, because the judges aren't even in the house this evening. The crowd whoops, recognizing the fact that the judges ruin everything, as you know, by pointing out when people perform badly. And where's the fun in that on a talent competition? Incredibly touched by the audience's great appreciation of the big fat nothing he just did, Muppet-Boy takes several deep bows. Wow, I don't know if I can take him for an entire hour. Shack must go through a lot of...well, whatever it is he uses to get through recapping Muppet-Boy and moderating the Clay thread.

Muppet-Boy tells us that tonight, they're interrupting the competition to give the contestants a chance to perform without judgment or pressure, because these crazy kids certainly shouldn't have to put up with the pressure of being judged when all they want is a career in which millions of Americans will be so obsessed with them that they'll demand to know what brand of toilet paper they use to clean out their ears. (Or, in Clay's case, what brand of soup ladle.) He says that the contestants will get a chance to "let it all hang out." I'll let you enjoy the rest of the episode and decide whether repeating a song you've already sung and answering a few prearranged questions constitutes "letting it all hang out." He blathers about how the contestants have worked so hard to get to the final six from the original 70,000 auditioners. God, do we have to watch audition tape again? Who cares about these people now that we know nothing happened to any of them? In recounting this footage, Muppet-Boy actually says, "Yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah." Wow, now he's even boring the crap out of himself. He tells us that Randy said "dawg" and "dude" a lot, Paula was nice, and Simon was an asshole. An asshole, that is, who was right about almost everything. Believe it or not, this segment includes a still photograph of nuns playing pool. No, I'm not explaining it. I had to watch the thing -- you should, too. Down with free riders.

Final twelve flashbacks, et cetera. One by one, contestants were booted from the show and returned to their lives of quiet desperation. Vanessa went back to coloring hair, Charles went back to singing to the bananas, Julia went back to snotting at pretty girls, Corey went back for a court date, Rickey went back to singing to the ducks, and Kimberly went back to burning everything in her closet. Well, one can hope. Muppet-Boy wants us to keep voting, but tonight, he wants us to just enjoy. Except when Carmen is singing. At that point, we should all yell really loudly to drown her out. Just a little suggestion from me to you.

Speaking of Carmen, she's the first contestant to be featured in this little clip-show/Olympic-athlete-profile hour. We see how she yodeled in the hallway outside her first audition, and was then whisked off to "Hollywood," presumably so she could commune with all those Californian goats. Once she was there, though, cooler heads prevailed and she was cut. But then Simon went off his medication and she was put through in the wild card round, and thus did our collective suffering begin. She read Shakespeare for school, she wore weird red pants, and she turned eighteen. And thus did our collective suffering continue. She comes out to greet Muppet-Boy in a black shirt with a pink flowery sparkle-design on the chest and...pale pink cropped pants? Is that what that is? Goodness. Her hair is also longer, so apparently she's become one of those Cult Of Hair Extensions people. Muppet-Boy sits her down and says to her that it's been "an emotional roller-coaster, literally." And by "literally," he of course means "figuratively." He goes on to ask her about how hard it is to put up with Simon's criticisms week after week and continue sucking just as hard no matter what. Or that's what he would have said if he had consulted with me in writing his questions. She says that "it's, like, psychological, like." She acknowledges that it's hard to go home when you don't think you've done your best, but she says that "you always have -- or you hope you'll have -- another week." Of course, she always has another week, because as has been established by parties more qualified to commune with dark powers than I, she is in league with the forces of evil and is therefore guaranteed survival for some time to come, right? Right?

And now, Muppet-Boy invites the wrath of the many people running around with Clay Aiken lunchboxes by reading Carmen a fan letter from Fairview Park, Ohio asking what's up with her and Clay, because they seem to flirt a lot. Carmen says, "Woo!", not realizing that of all the things you cannot do without looking like a complete nitwit, yelling "woo!" at spicy gossip about yourself is near the top of the list. It makes you sound like the drunk girl at a bar who's just been told she's being cut off and it's time for her to go home, because in case she's already forgotten, she just flashed her panties at a cop. "Woo!", she will say. See? At any rate, Muppet-Boy asks Carmen if the thing with her and Clay is a romance. "I think I'll just let America just think what they want to think," she says, going for "cagey" and winding up stalled at "dim." I really don't even want to think about the competing vibrations that would occur in a room where Clay and Carmen were speaking passionately to each other. They both warble so much that every nearby piece of glass would splinter into a million pieces. The fan letter that Muppet-Boy reads to her says, "I really want to be a singer, Carmen, just like you." Yeah. You'll need some funny-looking shirts and a bad case of scrapy to make that crazy dream come true, whoever you are. Muppet-Boy asks Carmen about the pressure she's under, and Carmen characterizes it as "extremely tough." Especially with all the sucking, of course. She also tells us that it's important to "believe in yourself." Especially when you really, really suck. Muppet-Boy asks Goat-Girl what "favorite song" of hers she's going to sing for us tonight, and she informs us that she will be performing "You Can't Hurry Love." Because Phil Collins didn't inflict enough gaping wounds on it the first time it was covered.

This performance is no exception to the general rule that what I hate about the way American Idol covers older songs is that the cheesy, over-smooth, pleatherette arrangements are even more inappropriate when you reach into places like the Motown vault. The perky, perfect hum of the bass line at the beginning of this massacre could not be more out of place. That's really supposed to be a heavy, driving thump, not something that sounds like the soundtrack of a pinball machine. And then, of course, she starts to sing. Carmen is one of those ten-percent singers -- in other words, she's always on the right note, plus or minus ten percent. She's not consistently sharp, and she's not consistently flat, but she's also almost never quite in tune. Very disconcerting. Typical of ten-percent singers, she thinks you won't notice it if she puts in enough slipping and sliding on the notes. She's wrong. Interestingly, the yodel in her voice doesn't really bother me -- some singers are like that, and when it works, they can get away with calling it a feature rather than a bug. The fluttery, bleating vibrato, however, needs to be euthanized, and she needs to stop scrunching up her face at random intervals. I would also point out that she will not be getting the PETA endorsement, because an innocent camel gave its toe to make her pants. Oh, and look at that poor audience, standing up and clapping like hypnotized cult recruits. Finally, I cannot say enough about how much I hate the way they force-end the song. I realize you have to do something to put a little cap on the truncated version and everything, but the way they set up the break and then go directly to a tuneless yell of "can't hur-ry love!" is just...well, unacceptable. I'd rather they ended it with a cannon firing. Muppet-Boy congratulates her, and talks again about how much more fun it is to perform in front of a captive audience with no one to point out that you weren't on pitch for most of the song.

Muppet-Boy sends us to commercials, promising to tell us later which of the contestants has a snoring problem. I would make a little joke here about who in fact has a snoring problem during this particular boring clipfest, but I think that would be a little obvious.

Let's talk about Josh, the singing Marine! Remember when we met him, and he saluted, and then he yelled "Whuuuuuh!"? Remember when he and Simon did push-ups? Remember the big-ass cowboy hat? Remember when he could sing? Hmmyeah, me neither. But now he's coming out to talk to Muppet-Boy on the stage. Blue jeans, white t-shirt, and floppy flannel-y shirt. Wow, thanks for getting out of bed, there, Captain Clean-Cut. Don't strain yourself getting dressed. Muppet-Boy asks the audience if they like Josh, and we cut to somebody holding up a sign that shows a rebus-puzzle-style "[eye] [heart] JOSH" on it. But the eye is all droopy, like it's about seventy-five percent dead. Heh. Muppet-Boy and Josh trash-talk Simon for a while, because that's certainly a new and exciting form of humor for the show. Josh's inoffensive blather about how Simon is "honest" and "true to himself" and so there are no hard feelings reminds me of Bull Durham, when Kevin Costner teaches Tim Robbins how to answer press questions without actually saying anything. Once they're through this little interval, Muppet-Boy runs out into the audience to take a question, which I'm sure was not set up in advance at all, because this is totally spontaneous. Like, really. Danielle, who is to be graced with the privilege of asking her question, unfortunately gives away the non-spontaneity when she stands up before Muppet-Boy invites her to. And what is Danielle's very thrilling question? "What are your plans when American Idol is over?" Josh says he will go back to the Marine Corps and stay with his family and work on his music career. Apparently, he will be cloning himself by way of some kind of The Sorcerer's Apprentice arrangement in which he plays the part of the broom. Sit down, Danielle. You wasted your question. Ridiculing the many chicks who "want a piece of Josh" -- which is certainly many more chicks than "want a piece of" him -- Muppet-Boy goes on to the girl. Her name is Alicia. Her question to him is what luxury he will miss when the show is over. Josh says he will miss sleeping in, and hearing people cheer for him. I have to say, Josh is officially the most boring question-answerer ever. It's surprising to find myself anxious for him to hurry up and sing. Unsurprisingly, he informs Muppet-Boy that he will be singing "Amazed."

Wow, he really has some trouble finding that first note. Fortunately, his phony twang is there to see him through. Doesn't he feel dopey doing that accent? If I were doing that (and I have about as much of an authentic twang as Josh), I would constantly feel like I wasn't singing country so much as doing somebody singing country. I mean, I could call myself Fifi Boudoir and hang out in downtown Minneapolis singing "La Vie En Rose" for spare change, but it's not going to make me Edith Piaf, you know? Josh also really does not have full ownership of those higher notes. Not even close. He can lease them for brief periods, but you can sense that they will be repossessed at any time. And I hate that last "you" at the end of the song. It's got about fourteen different vowel sounds in it. Ew.