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The Amazingly Bizarre: "Eccentric," 24-year-old half-man/half-panther, an argument against stem-cell research with a "fire equaling three men," inspired by mostly the banned part of the "Black Or White" video, the demons in his head, and scary Europorn. Eric Mueller (23, West Covina CA) is nasally up in his nasal, crazier and crazier-looking as he goes on, sounding like a busted lung. Third comes Compton's own Sparkles and Darold, a totally gross couple who met at a bus stop inside the movie Friday. Sparkles sends Simon into an unprecedented wiggle-fit by threatening him with fellatio, first by subtle implication -- and then by offering to suck his dick.
The Merely Uninteresting: Some awful girl and her slutty mom begging for a golden ticket for twenty minutes = low point. Plus, Sholandric Stallworth, who's like a creepy baker from a Disney cartoon who harbors a magical secret, if Disney cartoons knew what black people were. He loves Julio Iglesias, but most of all he loves screaming the words of "If Ever You're In My Arms Again" like a maniac.
The Heartbreaking: Phuong Pham, the only person to ever make me cry on this show besides Constantine's mom. She also makes Ryan Seacrest cry, and if you think that's easy, we're obviously going on different dates with Ryan Seacrest. Sherman Pore (64) shoves Paula down a k-hole so darn fast with his story about how his desire to be on the show kept his "lady-love" alive...until two days before the audition. It's sad, he's marvelous, and he can sing too. A surprisingly uplifting moment of hope in the desolate wasteland that is this show.
The Actually Good: Nineteen hopefuls make it through, including Alaina Alexander, 24, whose spirit has been broken by L.A., despite her mega-watt hot boyfriend, until Simon and Jacob fall in love with her, revealing her true destiny as an adorable shoo-in. Brandon Rogers, "by far the best" in L.A. per the judges, is a sparkplug body with a smooth, slightly weird voice. He's sung backup for Anastasia and Xtina, but science has proven you can't get the gay by osmosis. Don't despair, ladies! Brian Miller (19, Placentia CA) failed out last year in Hollywood, I didn't remember him then, and I don't remember him zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz09dfwj Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Katharine McPhee sings that Jacob-hating song of all time, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow," as we look at the crowds of LA and remember nutjobs from other auditions this year, and think about how Kat was from LA, and remember how she rolled around on the stage sometimes when she sang. Ryan, off the tip not only of the song but also his outstanding gayness, points out that "Sometimes what you're looking for might be in your own backyard." Since the show tapes in LA, you see. This blonde girl half-heartedly attacks the camera: "Take me to Hollywood! Even though I'm already from here!" Heh. Ryan talks about how the "biggest stars in the world" are already in LA, over a shot of his darling little star on Hollywood Boulevard. Off the tip not only of Olivia Newton-John's presence but also his obtrusively overwhelming gayness, Ryan describes the judges greeting her as "three beauty school dropouts" being joined by royalty from the non-magic land of Oz, or whatever's gayest. He mentions specifically the Xanadu anthem "Magic," and the "pop sensation," "Physical," which is where I learned about the whole dudes-kissing concept in the first place. She sings, all emo right up with her giant face in your face, the Grease song of being hopelessly devoted, and today with the judges here is her state: she is wearing a cute brown tee that reads it is what it is, and the face above it is...also what it is. Which is to say that, of all the permanent expressions one might bring to the American Idol auditions, "mild surprise" is a pretty good choice.
Martik Manoukian (24, God Knows, USA) is "very firey," he says, with "fire equalink three men." He then spreads "the love" all over Ryan's personal space, and very intensely tells us his fortunes: to be athlete, and to "get into actink as well," modelink, to be author, singer-songwriter, choreographer, producer and composer. He then reaches out with one fiery paw and scratches at camera like a great cat. Specifically a panther. He spends a lot of time hissing and meowing like a cat, I should mention that up front. And he wants to be called "Eccentric." I don't think this will be a problem.
"When I was fourteen-fifteen, I was kitty-cat, but now I am full-grown panther." He makes a succession of creepy, horrible faces at the camera and continues to have perhaps the least memorable face in the history of the universe, despite or possibly because of the myriad other issues at play here. He tells us that -- I guess man-panthers? -- have three moves: The Eccentric Move, which is where you apparently pretend that you have lockjaw and cannot operate your joints, but must dance like b-boy nevertheless, as if your life depended upon it. There's the Panther Crawl, which is self-explanatory and mind-numbing, and finally the Flash, where you swipe out at faces and cameras and growl like a giant fucking idiot. He explains, in case we thought he was just being a poseur and trying to look cool by doing these things, that the Eccentric, Crawl and Flash are not created for entertainment: they are him as a person. I don't know what the fuck he means by this, I just know he's tiresome in the exact same way as Margaret Fowler. He informs us that he is the "most exciting entertainer on planet Earth," and heads inside. Where he nearly proves himself right.
The first thing he does is throw a clipboard onto the dancefloor well in advance of his own lame self, which startles and confuses everybody, then he turns his back on them, messing with his shades, then he turns forward, then he finally takes them off and throws them (zing!) to his left, causing Randy finally to make a worried face, then he takes off his stupid jacket, throws that to his right (zing!), causing Simon to get pissed, then he starts to take off his shirt, causing Paula and Randy to giggle, then he crawls toward the desk making panther noises, stands, and stalks away again, causing even Paula to get bored, then he dances like Michael Jackson is having a seizure inside his body, and a pretend microphone comes hurtling out of wherever it was concealed on his person, and he starts hissing the word "eccentric" under his breath, like giving himself sound effects now, and he makes more stupid panther noises and you can see the panther-scratch tattoo on his pectoralis major, and let me tell you, I gave up right there. Furries. Why?
Simon finally asks him to fucking sing or something, and he of course sings one of his own compositions, "Sweetest Princess" by Eccentric, amidst a bunch more roaring, meowing, saying the word eccentric a hundred billion times, and when he finally starts the song it's exactly that tuneless whining bullshit with mouth sounds and melodyless phrases and...he's a crazy person. You've seen crazy people? It's like that. He acts just like that. He sings like Michael Jackson impersonating Ani DiFranco in the touring company of Jesus Christ Superstar, as he's being slowly killed. There are more roars, and finally Simon unleashes. "What the hell was that? The buildup was horrific, the outfit was horrific, the meowing was ridiculous, the singing horrendous..." Paula chuckles and says that he is awesome but not right for the show, or period, and Olivia agrees that he is original and not right for the show. Randy goes like this: "Nooooooo waaaaaaaay." It's awesome. Outside, Eccentric informs Ryan of the stuff on his agenda for the day, mainly "blowing up as big as Michael Jackson, maybe bigger," and making Ryan look at his scrapbook of 53 songs, about which people often get tears in their eyes. Ryan archly asks if Eccentric knows why they're crying, and his crazy is hard and hot and brooks no disagreement: "Brilliant. Brilliantly written." They hug and Eccentric prowls away after reminding Ryan again to "spread the love." Spread the Risperidone, dude.
From one great cat with bad ideas to another: meet Sholandric Stallworth (25, LA), who's got a tiger on his shirt and another one in his tank, if you know what I mean, and I think you do, but in case you do not: I speak of romance! But not as much as Sholandric, who's the urban king of spooky creepy romance talk, dancing to music only he can hear, having creepy teeth and opinions about love songs, to wit: "People sing love songs, but not really romantically. Not like Julio Iglesias." His eyes glaze over about Julio, then he stares blankly. He talks really slow, like a dumb person, which is in fact why, explaining to us how it's going to go: "I believe Paula, Randy, and Simon will say, 'Hey, you deserve a golden ticket, go to Hollywood.'" I do not believe that's how it's going to go down. He's got that George Huff thing also where 25 looks like 45 on him, but there's nothing so beautiful as what happens once he walks into that room, because he starts singing "If Ever You're In My Arms Again," a song I love so much I don't even know where the irony starts and stops, and he SCREAMS it, like it's WARTIME, and it's awesome. Randy and Paula pretend to sway to the beautiful sound of his singing, and he hops keys twice just on the chorus, and Paula grimaces at the crew, and finally he's done. "Hideous," says Simon, and Paula giggles. Randy's like, "Wow, dawg. About twelve keys?" Olivia Newton-John tells him the pitch is "not on," and laughs as Randy begs to know what's gone wrong with American Idol now.
It's 11 AM in LA and there are three short bad auditions: a girl from San Marino screaming, a girl wearing a costume that makes her look like she's fucking a cow, and a guy in a banana suit singing a song about peanut butter and jelly time. These are people who think they're pulling off a savvy joke or something, but are in fact actual years behind the actual curve, so the only joke is them. Try harder or stay home, losers.
Speaking of, here comes Marianna Riccio (20, West Hills CA), and I will tell you right now that I can't remember the last time I disliked somebody so viscerally even though they were just on the TV. Her slutty mom, who's no better than her daughter, explains that Marianna has been singing since -- sorry -- "she came out of my womb, she was wailing...it was like, Mmmmmm." Oh, it hasn't even begun to get stupid, either. There's a lot more to get through. Marianna explains that her mom was "one of Dean Martin's Gold Diggers," and that she considers herself her mother's protégé, and she plans to "do [her] family proud for the thirty years or so," starting right this second. She is ready, she claims, to rock out. In this case, "rock out" is apparently a colloquial term for "sing like I'm having a stroke, while making the goblin movements of a drunken belly-dancer."
Simon answers the song's eponymous question ("Should I Stay Or Should I Go") with a strong Column B, and compares her style to "Cher, after she's been to the dentist." He pronounces her very odd and expresses a dubious feeling about her true "rocker" status. Everything gets stupid and horrible, as Marianna starts begging and whining and being just cringingly stupid and annoying. And I'll tell you, it's hard to watch, because there are so many questions, like, A) How often does this work/has this worked in the past? B) Just how much of a ho-bag are you in reality? And most especially, C) This is how you solve problems? Not by becoming a better singer, but just by begging? This is Strategy One? What a lazy, grotesque, sickening, pathetic way to get through life. The correct answer to "No" is never "Please." Have some fucking self-respect.
She begs and begs for one billion years and wigs out and embarrasses herself some more, and they are trying to get rid of her, and like she's already not annoying enough, she brings in her slutty mom, aka the Root of the Issue, who responds by...begging the judges to give her daughter another chance. Like IMMEDIATELY, that's her response. I hate their whole stupid goddamn family. Then: a montage of people begging. I never wanted so badly to be able to kick people inside my TV in my whole life. A girl bounces her boobs around and begs, a totally hot guy begs, a girl starts to have a meltdown, a cute girl gets on her hands and knees, a "true artist" is "stunned" by their decision, a girl screams with a blower in her hair, begging begging begging, Olivia Newton-John crosses her eyes, which I guess is the only other expression she can do now, the bouncing boob girl offers to do some cartwheels, a girl goes fully nuts right in front of them, Ryan begs in VO for them to have some self-respect, but that's asking...just so much. Too much, apparently. I could have done without seeing that whole sequence. Please promise me you'll never act like that. You're losing so much more than you could possibly gain.
Alaina Alexander (24) explains that being adorable, talented, funny, and well-spoken, with a crazy hot boyfriend and a great body, can be incredibly hard, and that lately the burden of being gorgeous in LA has been of such terrible weight that she's actually considered college. OMG! Why not just slit your own throat and be done with it! Nothing says "giving up on the future" like higher education. Luckily, to make a long story short, she sings awesome and Simon loves her very, very much, and they make her cry, and the judges chase away those collegiate nightmares for at least a couple months. I don't mean to be rude, she's probably my favorite girl we've seen so far this year, top three with Chris and Blake, but...honey, it's not that hard. The secret of life is that it's not that hard.
Remember when Taylor Hicks won American Idol, Ryan asks, and honestly? Just barely. I remember Prince and, I believe, David Hasselhoff, but the rest is pretty fuzzy. Anyway it was kind of a rhetorical question, I guess, because meet Phuong Pham (17, San Diego), who totally remembers when Taylor won, because one thing that Phuong Pham is not entirely clear on is how she's not Taylor Hicks. She enumerates for us all the ways that she is similar to but not necessarily congruent with Taylor Hicks: they are both self-taught vocalists who are not supported by their families. She relates a story about her mother, on hearing that Phuong wanted to try out for the show, sitting her down and trying to bring Phuong and reality together at once. "I'm not going to lie to you, they probably focus on looks a lot, and...as pretty as you are, you're not TV pretty. Let's face it, you're no Katharine McPhee." Which is really upsetting for some reason, to watch. I think it has to do with the anger. She's kind of a goober, this girl, and the "TV pretty" speech is one of the few times she focuses on anything, and it's so sad because she's totally cute, with a strange deep duckly voice and dorky ways, and it just gets worse. "Um, it did hurt a little, but she's coming around and supporting me a little bit." Later she talks about not wanting to be "perceived as a Taylor replicate" but wanting to give the impression of having "the same passion, and fire." Honey, I like you. Don't ruin it.
Inside the audition room, she dorks out over how Taylor's on the poster, which is reason enough for Simon Cowell to intentionally mispronounce her name and call her "Pong" a hundred times, which is not very cool. She tells them that she "abandoned music for awhile" to "please" her family, and because the judges don't know about the TV Pretty stuff, or the fact that she's wonderful and funny and dorky and sweet, they treat her like any other delusional auditioner. Which...she is, and that's sad too. So Simon's like "Heard it, whatever, sing your song." She sings "Dancing In The Streets," and it's terrible and awful. Her voice sounds like a lesbian foghorn, and her dancing is like Yentl in the Soul Train line. It's a huge mess from go, and it goes on forever. Paula gives a hiccupping laugh at one particularly bad note. It gets worse and worse; Randy can't even watch and holds a piece of paper up in front of his face. At the end, she closes her eyes and finally says, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," and the judges giggle sad little church giggles, and Simon tells her he's not sure which part was worse, of the singing and dancing. She nervously throws out a Taylor gimp move, collapsing sideways and going "hee!" and you start to realize that Taylor Hicks is very real for her, to the point where she took casual things he said and did and made of them catch-phrases inside her brain. "Like Taylor said, give me a chance, give me a chance!"
Simon says "no" one hundred times, the girls tell her she'll be okay, Simon's not feeling her at all. When she leaves, "Do I Make You Proud" starts playing, which is pretty shitty because I think even the show wants you to feel bad for her. "I thought I had something. Now it's done, and my journey is over, and there's nothing more I can do." Ryan Seacrest is this close to crying, this whole time, and it's a strange little collage of things that shouldn't make you cry, like Ryan and Taylor Hicks and this weird girl, adding up to something pretty bleak, emotion-wise. I still don't think I've nailed it down exactly, but I think it's the sincerity of her, and the anger I said, and the complete lack of talent, and the fact that the four judges don't get it, but Ryan totally gets it, so there's a whole inside the room/outside the room issue, and no way to protect her. So he pats them both on the shoulder and tries to think of something nice to say, and as she's leaving he cheeses out, "Soul patrol, okay?" And I think he's trying to be cheesy, but underneath the cheese there's something else. I don't know. This episode is very effin' weird, between Phuong Pham and the old guy coming up, because it's trying to be touching. Which, when I think of this show plus "touching" I think of that pile of Pickler or whatever, and this was...actually touching. Perhaps the Hoff is with us tonight.
Brandon Rogers (28, North Hollywood) has been singing background for four years, and apparently started by accident, first singing with Anastacia, and then touring for two years with Xtina. Gay-adjacent, no? I don't even think there's a straight person, or a person with taste of any kind, who even knows who Anastacia is. Ryan sure does, though, I'm sure because he's in entertainment. So they talk about what it's like traveling with "superstars," such as Anastacia, while remaining in the background, and Brandon admits that it can be frustrating, that eventually the "smoke and mirrors" and glamorous "world travel" of working with said "superstars" gets old. One is left with the feeling, he explains, of not having progressed as a solo artist. Sounds like he has perspective, right?
Should Brandon advance to Hollywood, he tells us, "Every decision that I've made to pursue music in my life would be validated." Aaaaaand I'm done with Brandon Rogers. He steps into the audition room revealing that he has a tight little sparkplug body, a good and only slightly mucousy voice, and that he feels it's a good idea to ornament all over the place with a song like "Always On My Mind." Which he does, unendingly, in a way which is both impressive and sleep-inducing. There's a moment you can actually see Simon make his mind up about this guy. When he's finally done singing, the ladies sigh, and Randy laughs and asks if he made Simon sigh too. With the smell of money. And yes, in fact, he did. "Out of everyone today," Simon pronounces him "by far the best audition," and sees him making it to the Finals. Which means he will. The other judges agree with him just as intensely as he agrees with himself; they talk about his likeability and gorgeousness, and Olivia goes wild with some Paula talk about how she felt Brandon in her heart, and that's how she can tell. Everybody gets dorky and the music is very agitated and by the way, have you heard about Brandon Rogers?
I should never have bitched about not seeing the golden tickets during these first few months of auditions -- I forgot what it feels like to have them ram-rodded down your throat by the show, which is I'm sure we can at least agree is rarely subtle. Kicking to commercial, we get our first glimpse at Sherman Pore trying to register to audition, and showing the laughing intern his petition, which has on it in excess of 330 signatures. And I have nothing against Sherman Pore, and the circumstances surrounding this make him pretty much untouchable, but I'll say this off the bat: the word "petition" should never be used, in your beautiful life. What it demonstrates is that you either have a problem with, or a lack of cognizance about, the rules, and instead of living your life in conjunction with these rules, you would prefer to whine and pester your neighbors and local strangers in order to see about getting the rules changed to something that fits you personally a little bit better. Not exactly what's going on here, but neither does any of this mean that Sherman Pore is particularly a role model, or that petitions are the way to get things done.
Brian Miller (19, Placentia CA) was apparently "devastated" last year in Hollywood, though I don't remember him. He looks like a defendant to me, to be honest. Paula remembers him, and he sings "A Change Is Gonna Come," and he's cute but very confused looking, and his voice has a prepubescent sound. Olivia Newton-John is Feeling It. I'm just feeling very Orlando about it all. Simon pronounces him a nice-looking guy with a nice voice, but forgettable. Brian sets 'em up so Simon can knock 'em down, asking if he's improved since last year: "I can't remember you!" Hee, hee. Paula again protests that she remembers him. Randy says, all this aside, based on the voice, he'd put Brian through. I agree with that. Olivia Newton-John loves him, Paula loves him, Simon says no now that he's safely outvoted, and Brian goes tearing out into the foyer, no more memorable than a few minutes ago when he didn't exist.
Sherman Pore, 64. His "lady love" of twenty years died in the cancer ward at Cedars very recently, and leading up to this, she worked on the petition with him. Every day he would go out and harass people, and he would come home with "lots of signatures," and she'd just light up. He tells us that he thinks it helped her to keep a positive attitude and smoothed her passing and made it a little softer for her. Well, I am not made of stone. The idea that you can take anything, even something as stupid as the knowingly futile attempt to get on a TV game show, and give that real weight and importance, I think that's awesome. I think it's really beautiful, honestly, no matter what the X thing is that you use to go forward and stay strong. The X thing so doesn't matter: it's what it gives you. Simon asks softly if he's correct in assuming that Sherman's over 28, and he tells them the story, sort of, and says she passed away on Friday, "two days before the audition." Simon goes, "Wow, Sherman," and Sherman yells at them that he doesn't want pity. Simon scoffs because there is no pity in him, and explains that he won't be getting sympathy -- just the opportunity to sing, and to finish the story.
He sings "You Belong To Me," quite well but nothing amazing, and Paula starts crying immediately, then Olivia Newton-John, and Paula barely holding it together, and Olivia Newton-John smiling sadly, and Paula wiping away her tears, and then it's over. Simon thanks Sherman and tells him it was very good, and that he's a class act, and asks to shake his hand. You know who's a class act is Simon Cowell. Paula kisses Sherman's cheek, as does Olivia Newton-John, and outside he explains firmly, and just once, that he won: he's a winner.
Twenty-one others make it through from Day One, including: Girl in Flouncy Dress, a Tiny Gay Latino, somebody Randy wants to do a cartwheel, a Bleach Blonde, a Cute Girl, and two Nondescript Persons. Olivia Newton-John and Paula hug, so I guess we only got her for one day. That's okay. My chills were pretty much multiplied out once she could barely get her ducts working for Sherman.
Day Two: Creepy making out couple, Paula slurring at the camera, "Three necklaces or two?" Simon zipping his pants, Ryan wearing brown and looking terrific, Paula babbling to the camera about how there are a couple of guys that are amazing, and probably some girls but she doesn't remember, and as Ryan and Simon slip their arms around each other and head inside, Ryan VO about another couple who has found love. I did not make that up.
She's huge, he's big and dumb. They are a couple from Compton, in every sense of what that might mean: they met at a bus stop. My notes at this point say, "Walking together, loving each other, they are gross." I like that. "I have found mines right here," says the girl one, "My soulmate." It's all very amazing. She talks about how much she loves his disgusting retarded-looking grill: "It's, oh, it's flashy -- I love that flavor, it's a turn-on all the way, like bling-bling-bling, I like that." The guy one mushmouths out that he "blows her cold kisses," and he kisses her cheek and points out the imaginary "frost" from his ice. I wish they were dead. They make out, and the camera pulls back to reveal something surprising, namely that they were doing this in a cozy little town I call Ryan Seacrest's Crotch. He smiles directly at the camera: "American Idol. Bringing people closer together. With grills." I would not let these freaks near my rental car, much less my business, my personal mister business. Ryan Seacrest needs to keep a better eye on his groin and its visitors. ["This is not the first time Ryan's been in need of that advice, I'd wager. Need I remind you?" -- Joe R] Twenty times she tries to give the camera some speech that never actually makes sense, I think having to do with them being both the Final Two and married or something. They've been together two years. They are fucking gross.
Carett "Sparkles" Carr, whose details are not important. She explains to them that she prefers to be called "Sparkles" because she "do glow," although an explanation for her egregious camel toe is less forthcoming. She's going to "bring it like how it's supposed to be brought." Apparently -- and I missed this memo too, so don't feel too utterly terrible -- how it's supposed to be brought is in the style more commonly known as "actual cash-for-sex streetwalking prostitute," is how it's supposed to be brought. I am going to have to adjust...so many things, if that's how it's being brought these days. Starting with new business cards. I love new business cards!
What she is bringing is a song about "going down," which sounds horrible, although I must say it occasions some really interesting faces. What she is additionally bringing is a bunch of pointing at Simon Cowell and threats of sexual complicity such that you might feel overwhelmed, or like there's a code that you're not quite on the verge of breaking. Luckily, this is my calling, so stand back. When Sparkles sings about "going down," she's making a parallel between her subjective emotional state in Simon's -- as the song's apostrophe -- absence, and the commonly described experience of depression, or, "feeling low." However, when Sparkles actually gets down on her elephantine knees while singing this, she introduces a third and fourth layer to the story, in which the prepositional phrase itself -- to be on one's knees or otherwise lower than standing -- fights for dominance with another colloquial layer of meaning, "to go down" as in "to perform fellatio." I'll let that sink in -- I know this is some really sophisticated shit. So then finally, when she starts licking her lips and popping her dentures in and out while staring lasciviously at Simon Cowell, in conjunction with dropping to her knees, singing about blowjobs, and touching her own breasts and lady business in a manner which might be perceived as lewd or even intended to be seductive in some way, it becomes quite clear that what is being brought is: all the sexually transmitted diseases in the world, starting with whatever's scariest. She's not a connoisseur ho, like one of those "what's the dirtiest thing you can think of" kind. She's the kind that gets in the back seat with you. I know this because I've seen every Hookers At The Point so many times they're like sweet little lullaby melodies to me now. Anyway, while all of this is going on, a look of such panic is illuminating Simon Cowell's face as could best be described as: pants-shitting.
Simon begs her to stand up while Paula and Randy laugh and tease him about the actual, true, real violation going on here, and she keeps making the prostitute faces and licking her lips and touching herself. Meanwhile, outside, as though even the suggestion of Simon Cowell getting a blowjob caused him to magically appear, Ryan's asking the guy one if they are in total true love and if he's going to marry her. "Are you...flirting with me?" asks Simon of the lady love, and she stares at him blankly. "I think you're cute, Simon." She continues to undulate and make the scary faces. "You are...fabulous," he says, "But it was the singing that was, um...slightly off-putting." She tells him he's still a hottie. Outside, Ryan congratulates the guy one on finding somebody he can count on, somebody loyal and trustworthy. Inside, Simon is telling Sparkles straight up she's making him nervous. Randy and Paula laugh and tease him some more about how she's totally going to rape him, and how creepy it is, and Paula's kinda sympathetic, but it's more like she's amazed to see that even Simon Cowell is afraid of something.
Darold Gray, 20, has a hat I do not understand, on which is written "Y $ BAM." I don't care to know. Perhaps he was impressed by those symbols or felt a magnetic pull toward them, and wrote them down for himself, only to years later come across a milliner who was able to fashion a hat bearing those strange symbols. He's dumb as shit and stares emptily at the judges as Simon explains his girlfriend's inappropriate behavior: the suggestive song, the lip-licking, the vertical relocation. He assures the judges that he is not a jealous person and asks rhetorically how he could be? After all, he has metal teeth that go on the outside of his real teeth!
He sings "Wish It Would Rain (The Wesley Willis Crackhead Remix)," as poorly as a person of diminished capacity might be expected to sing any old song, and they laugh half-heartedly, and Simon asks if Darold and Sparkles ever sing at home, and this is his response. "On the regular, sometimes. Yeah." On the regular, sometimes, they sing together. This is why you have to stay in school, people. Are the police ever called, Simon wonders, and Darold -- explain this to me -- goes, "Depends on what music we're listening to!" I don't know if that's a joke or music or what. He leaves, and Olivia Newton-John is still grilling Randy about Darold's fronts, because the first time you learn about grills it's like the most fascinating thing, like cyborgs or Natasha Lyonne. It's awesome in the same way that watching Twiggy learn about life on earth is awesome. Outside they make out and are disgusting some more, and Sparkles addresses Simon via the camera, and says something so foul I don't even know what it was. It's like a ten-minute bleep ending with "...real good." Stop burning the sausages, you two.
Anthony Adams cannot compete with Sparkles and Darold no matter how hard he tries, which is not hard. He sings "You Light Up My Life," in a way.
Lastly, we have Eric Mueller (23, West Covina CA), who we are told has spent the last two years training, to the exclusion of any real social life, which means he's got a lot riding on today. He seems pretty cute right now, a little stiff but seemingly human and only a little weird. Ryan likes him, right now. He talks about liking Staind and "Michael Jackson's featherweight vocals," which is the first indication something's going on here. He lets us know that he will be "breaking out of the mold" and that he likes to -- this is amazing, it's like: picture somebody behind the register at Target suddenly saying this to you -- take what other people do, "multiply it, raise it to higher heights, fluctuate and reverberate it, make the vocals blend in with the music and stand out with the contrast." At this point he begins to look a little crazier. He stares into the camera: "Let me take a breath a minute... Good." Ryan asks him how he prepared to be the best singer in America, and he mentions "programs" and practicing 4-5 hours a day, and how he's going to be "very big in his lifetime" and that nobody's ever seen anything like that in their life.
He is not lying. He stands with arms akimbo, singing spookily up in his nasal, his very pale blue eyes suddenly seeming to be white; he sounds and looks crazier and crazier looking, like an albino, possibly a ghost. I love him. He doesn't know what singing...is. What he's doing bears no relationship to singing at all. It's like if you got a little kid to explain "singing" to him, and this was what he came up with.
Simon begs him to tell us he's not serious. Eric admits that it was "a little loud," but certainly not unserious. Simon points out that it was super horrible high, and that he should sing in a lower register at all times so it's not quite so eerie. He tries again, still terrible, and Simon asks him to drop it again. He tries again, and finally he's like, "I'm not quite sure what you..." Randy accuses Simon of being cruel by making him do the scales like that over and over, and Simon's like, "What, like it sounded good before?" He sings again, though lower won't make it right, and it gets worse and worse, looking crazier and crazier, scary sounds making Paula's eyes go wild. It's not even words anymore, just sounds coming out of a quite impressively crazy young man. "Is that what you're looking for?" he asks, and Simon admits he has "absolutely" no idea what the guy just sang. It was apparently a Hilary Duff song, which adds this whole other awesome level to what's going on. Paula says not even Hilary Duff would recognize the song, it was so bad. Speaking of creepy teeth over your real teeth? Hilary's veneers are old news, but I still think about them a lot. You could keep a sewing kit in one of those giant woodchuck fake teeth of hers. Randy's without words; Simon tells them all to shut it because they're wasting time, and notifies Eric that he is "absolutely atrocious." Looking nuttier than ever, he nods at them: "I take my leave then."
And that was it for LA...until Simon noted Eric's resume, which included Eric's use of a vocal coaching program called Learn To Sing Like A Star, Paula and Randy's DVD, which the second Simon says it, Paula starts laughing her ass off, and Simon grins hugely and beautifully, begging for Ryan to bring Eric back in, and Ryan has no idea what's going on, and Paula and Randy are telling Simon to shut up, Eric to leave, Ryan to stay out of it, and Simon chases Eric out the door, with Paula and Randy stampeding after, and Ryan's like "What?" and Simon's like, "Dude!" and it's pretty sweet. Paula grabs Ryan's hand, and she and Randy run interference so that Simon won't be able to corner Eric. Ryan gets very Ryan on them: "Would I be in favor of this? Or against this? Eric, stand by." Finally Ryan gets it and has to divide his reaction between sympathy for Eric and OMG of the cross-promotional humor, and in the middle of it there's Eric going, "I say, goodbye."
He takes off, and Simon pretends to chase him through the theatre, giggling madly and adorably, and I...just don't have the energy anymore. What a very long week of this show. Nineteen more made it through, including a Bald White Man and a number of Girls with Hair, and week Joe takes you first to San Antonio, then everywhere at once.