Elite Eight

Let’s take a break from American Asshole (the sad saga of Penn State football’s criminal element as personified by Chris Bell in the preceding story) in order to tune in once again to American Idol.

This week, we’re down to eight contestants. It is Idol Gives Back week, so expect a lot of promos for Wednesday’s two-and-a-half hour extravaganza, which is basically a series of taped vignettes of former Idols, Idol judges, and other assorted luminaries reaching out to impoverished Africans. (N.B.: Mrs. Clinton and Messrs. McCain and Obama will not miss this important photo-op, as it is their best chance to strut their questionable shit in 15-second sound bites before an audience of 35-40 million.) But I digress. Eight good people left standing with no stated theme that this Turkey could glean could only mean one thing: one person will leave the stage in tears on Thursday night. I might watch the return of 30 Rock, instead. Just kidding!

Last week saw the elimination of my favorite little cutie, 4’11” Ramiele Malubay. She had chubby legs, but she also had a great big voice. Ramiele is an emotional kid, which took its toll on her when Ryan Seacrest announced that she was out; however, trouper that she is, she recovered long enough to belt out her song one final time for the people in the audience who derive sadistic gratification from Idol’s little torture routine of making the losers sing right after they are gunned down on stage.

So who’s left? First, the group that this Turkey considers the bottom half. We have the lovely, long-legged Kristy Lee Cook, whose fine ass has adorned the Bottom Three stools on so many occasions that she now comes prepared with a hand-lettered sign that reads “Kristy’s Seat”. If Kristy sticks to country music, she’ll be around for another week or two; if she doesn’t, this could be her week to go. Brooke White, too, is looking shaky. Her act has been heading downhill and her emotional personality has been getting the better of her of late. If Syesha Mercado happens to pull out another Whitney Houston song, she’s headed for the dumper, too. The audience rewards—or should reward—original, not copycat, performances. Jason Castro is pretty easy going—too easy going—and another weak song choice could send him to Idol oblivion.

The other four are pretty safe for a while. David Archuleta is the odds-on favorite to win the whole thing. He has a great voice and an engaging smile. He is the idol of the pre-teens, but many adult women not so secretly want to have a go with him, if only he would start shaving… But I digress. David Cook is edgy, performs updated material, got a better haircut, and is in it for the long haul. You always know that you’re going to get something out of the ordinary from him. Michael Johns has had his ups and downs, but is a genuinely nice guy, has an appealing Aussie accent, is good looking, and can sing. Those qualities should keep him around at least until we’re down to four remaining. Not to say that he’s the worst of the top four—these people are all pretty good. That brings us to Carly Smithson, who can sing but, according to Simon, can’t dress. She’ll be returning for a while if she doesn’t totally screw up. Maybe she should take Simon’s advice about clothing and at least cover that ridiculous tattoo on her right arm and shoulder. That shit belongs on Shaquille O’Neal, not on a pop singer. (If she was doing a genre like Industrial or Metal, maybe, but not pop. Instead of body art, she should have spent her money on a boob job or ass implants—something I wouldn’t be repelled by looking at.) Anyway, Carly will be with us for several more weeks, which is fine by me. When she’s good, she’s damn good. So let’s hope she doesn’t suck.

I’ll be open comment blogging with The Redhead tonight during the show. Anyone is welcome to join in by posting contemporaneous (or even ex post facto) comments to this blog.