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American Idol: Hollywood

Why is it that after every viewing of American Idol, I immediately get a craving for peanut butter? Is it because of that banana guy? Eh.

Hollywood, bitches!

I have to start off with this. What the hell did Taylor Hicks do to piss off the producers of this show so much? (Besides actually winning, I mean.) Katharine’s crotch shot of an album cover is all up in my face at the top of the Family Viewing Hour, DAUGHTRY!!1111! gets like eight hundred years of pimping as the Savior of Music, and Taylor? Just some crazy gray-haired dude who happened to wander onstage during the finale last year and get caught up in some confetti, I guess. Oh well. At least Taylor can probably count on the Soul Patrol to carry him through a long and solid (if not particularly glittery) musical career, instead of coasting solely on media hype, only to flame out spectacularly.

Round one. The girls start us off. Jory Steinberg somehow managed to both pack and wear the exact same outfit as Paula Abdul, which is creepy. Oh, and her singing isn’t really all that great — it’s affected, and there’s just no uniqueness to her voice at all. She gets cut, and sashays down the hallway, all “I thought it was good.” Well, I thought it sucked, as did the judges. Also? Girlfriend’s got one long face.

Stupid obnoxious Perla cootchie-cootchies her way through “Hips Don’t Lie,” which is apparently the only song she knows. (Cute skirt, though.) Simon puts her through, but tells her that she’s more personality than talent at this point. She’s understandably upset about this, and whines that she can’t stop being herself. No one asked her to stop being herself, but she needs to have the pipes to back it up. And she just doesn’t. Baylie Brown (whose website has been taken down, but if you Google her name, you’ll see the cached remnants that describe the supposed desperate-to-get-off-the-farm girl as a “seasoned professional”) speak-sings her way through a song, and gets through on…her blonde hair, I guess. Also going through: Gina Glocksen, Jamie Lynn “Kellie Pickler Who?” Ward, and Melinda Doolittle. Not so lucky: Army gal Rachel Jenkins, who gets cut after a lackluster performance; Ashlynn “Pour Some Sugar on Me” Carr, whose bitchface upon getting cut is priceless; rough-and-tumble Porcelana Patino, and daddy-doesn’t-love-me Sarah Burgess.

The men. Second-timer Bryan Miller sticks to his audition song, and it’s much nicer this time. Reagan Idol Jarrod Fowler sings Josh Groban boringly, and gets cut. Matt Sato and his beautiful eyebrows boyband their way through to the next round, as does Chris Sligh, who doesn’t get a whole lot of pimping this episode. Methinks TPTB have caught wind of the Soul Patrol-like gravy train that is the Sligh Phenomenon, and are going to do their damndest to stall his advancement at every turn (or at least they’ll step in once the possibility of his win starts to outweigh his entertainment value, because you know the last thing they want is another Taylor.) Also making the first cut: Brandon Rogers, Nick Pedro, Sean Michel, Phil Stacey, and stupid beatboxing Blake Lewis, who eventually WILL have to sing a song during this competition, unless the judges decided to allow him to beatbox his way through Diane Warren night. Sundance Head sings way too high up in his range, and displays none of the bluesiness or grit that made him my early favorite. He gets through on Paula’s generosity, apparently.

Round two. Group-hunting proves difficult for Matt Sato. Matthew BUCKSTEIN! joins a harmony-less trio, while for-now pimpees Chris Sligh, Rudy Cardenas, Tom Lowe and Blake Lewis , who still looks like he should be popping E at a rave, immediately hook up and later deliver a kick-ass performance (made all the more kickass, admittedly, by the beatboxing, although I still want to see him get off the crutch).

Perla can’t harmonize (and looks and dances like she’s being Tasered), and she’s out. Baylie totally blanks out on her words, and she’s gone. And God doesn’t like her, according to Amanda Coluccio. Sundance Head doesn’t do so hot, but lives to see another day. It also seems as though Sean “Fidel bin Jesus” Michel didn’t make it.

Final cut. Through to Hollywood are Melinda, Blake, Sligh, Gina, Tom, BUCKSTEIN!, and Sundance, as well as Sanjaya Malakar, Marisa Rhodes, Haley Scarnato, Leslie Hunt, Tommy Daniels, Jordin Sparks, Tami Gosnell, Anna Kearns and Paul Kim. Not making it are Shyamali Malakar (who, sobbing, is consoled by her equally devastated brother), Jamie Lynn, and Bryan Miller.

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December 2017
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What the kids are sayin’



"I hate them all. The judges, TPTB, the blatant manipulation, the songs, the contestants, everything. I'm a die-hard Cook fan, but for the love of god, at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself up there! Please? Syesha was awesome but she ruined it by being completely shameless and disgusting. Yes, being on American Idol is exactly like the civil rights movement, except for the part where you're fighting to make the world a better place."



"All I can say after the disgusting display tonight of favoritism towards the mediocrity that is David A. - good luck trying to market and make money off of that kid, American Idol. (Not to mention good luck dealing with his father.) All the teeny boppers may buy up his American Idol coronation single, but they will quickly forget about him before the album comes out. And I shudder to think of a David A. album - song after song of unrelenting sameness and heavy breathing. Why they are pimping him for the win is beyond me."



"This show was simply a hot buttered mess tonight. And Jason "needs to be arrested for what he did to I Shot the Sheriff. But I hope he stays. He amuses me. "