Before YouTube, recapping music videos is totally a thing and not a waste of time. Really..
Season 2: Somewhere over the Rainbow
Before we begin, let's spare a thought for Frenchie Davis, who is booted for having appeared in a porn website in some solo shots doing something that allegedly can make you go blind. Apparently somehow Fox "Blowjobs on Joe Millionaire and skankatular Temptation Island" TV and 19 "Simon Cowell dates barely legal strippers" Entertainment have suddenly realized that they have a moral responsibility to society. Pop stars are not allowed to make some dubious judgments in life. No, let's get rid of the talented one who honestly admits her past and enforce the hypocrasy! We have Tatu's faux-lesbian porn antics to turn on the perverts, but we can't have a woman who openly admitted to having posed in solo shoots to finance her way back to school. We can have Christina Aguilera stimulating masturbation on MTV, we can have Joe Millionaire, but we can't have a woman who made whatever dubious choices she'd had in her past on TV. We can have a stripper in last year's final three, but we can't have an equally dubious model and we certainly can't give her a chance without heaping on her past.
This disgusts me. The whole hypocrasy of it sickens me. The only solace I get is that by never winning, Frenchie will escape the industry's draconian clutches that will no doubt force her to lose weight, dress skanky, and in short, turn her into a milder version of the very thing they are now punishing her for.
And most importantly, bloody hell, people, let the audience decide whether they want her to stay, not a bunch of sanctimonious hypocritical assholes in the boardroom kowtowing to their advertizers!
Anyway, deep breath. I'll see if I can restrain my vitriol to do a decent job in recapping this week's episode. One last one: Frenchie, you deserve better, damn those bastards. Okay, let's move on.
Last week, the first eight is a rather mediocre bunch, and the finalists, Bigboy and Tomato, are so unmemorable performers that they will stand no chance in the Final. In fact, compared to this second eight, they already stand no choice, thanks to the gorgeous tirumvirate of Kimberweave, the Hairless Kewpie, and Ruben Studly. And as usual, the Sleazebag puts the move on both the Hairless Kewpie and Ruben here. Shameless slut, that Sleazebag, I tell you.
Today, Ryan "My jaw is so square I am a chunk of bohunk cheese" Sleazebag is wearing a green "Life is a jungle" T-shirt and faded jeans. He looks as if he's just got out of Vin Diesel's bed, grabbed Diesel's clothes, and strut right into the studio. Incredible as it seems, he has used even more hair gel than before on his head. He's the Prom Date from Hell made life.
King Tut Simon is wearing black and staring evilly at Sleazebag in the introductory scenes. That's because he is probably slowly being driven mad by his lover's open infidelities. Charmaine Miss Paula, after last week's Botoxi Blue apocalyptic disaster mode, looks presentable in a lovely white top that I would kill for. Alas, her eyes have this glazy look in them and judging from the way she slurs her words and seems to have problems even sitting upright, I think she's probably misread a label or two on the pharmaceutical bottles. Randy Randy, well, he's there, as usual. What can fatties wear to look good? Nothing, that's what. It's a crime how poor Randy Randy always have to wear dull shirts and pants that nobody notice, especially when King Tut Simon can wear pimp suits that open down to his navel.
Aha, but Sleazebag has a new way to egg his lover. He whips out photos from King Tut's past! I gasp. King Tut, are those... hard pecs on your younger self! Ohmigawd, red skimpy Speedos! King Tut looked like Bo Hazard gone porn in those pics. Sexy, ohmigawd, sexy! Charmaine Miss Paula, psst, pass me some Valium I know you must have hidden in your handbag. Miss Paula shrieks at the pictures - or maybe it's just those sedatives wearing off, who knows - while Randy Randy groans and places his forehead on the table. He's probably jealous of those hot luscious red Speedoed manmeat Sleazebag is enjoying night after night.
That's right, this show is all about perversions from mouth to bunghole, and they booted Frenchie Davis from this? Fecking hell!
Okay, okay, back to the show. But I'm bitter. I warn you people now.
Sleazebag walks into the Red Room, where we see the scary family members on the Couch of Shame cheering. Maybe Miss Paula has been on a generous sharing spree. Sleazebag asks the contestants whether it is more scary performing for the audience or the judges. Those young hapless fools immediately answer, "Judges!" With King Tut undressing you with his penetrating-every-orifice eyes as he slouches back with his legs wide like a pimp auditioning some gals for a porno, Miss Paula staring at you with dead eyes, and Randy Randy looking as if he wants to take a bite out of Ruben's meaty thighs, it's a no-brainer that these young ones would rather throw themselves naked into a sea of sharks rather than to face the judges.
The first contestant is the hairless kewpie doll Clay Aiken. He has ears to suggest that Dumbo may figure somewhere in his family tree. Maybe Dumbo married an ewok and somehow a few generations later we get Clay the Hairless Kewpie. He wears yellow under black. Not bad. Then he sings.
I'm in love. Ooh, what a voice. I like it. His ears aren't so bad after all. Those squinty eyes make me want to run my foot down that scrawny hairless torso and tickle those big billboard ears as he sings... what did he sing? I can't remember. I'm in a haze of love. I want the Hairless Kewpie. I want Kewpie! Yes, Kewpie, my arms are wide open. Just don't stop singing and I'll keep believing that your dimples aren't pimples.
Miss Paula says that she closes her eyes but she still can't find any glitches. "Magnificent." Randy Randy asks where that voice come from, because the Hairless Kewpie sure doesn't look like he's a big-voiced dude. King Tut says that this is why he loves the format of this show. He doesn't believe that the Hairless Kewpie looks like the new American Idol (whom, as we all know by now, must be white, gorgeous, virginal or asexual, but looks good in slutty clothes - hah!) but he loves the voice. So he will let the audience decide.
But you can't let us decide on Frenchie Davis, can you? Bastards!
Back in the Red Room, much ado is made about the Hairless Kewpie's makeover. I don't see it. I think he looks better with those adorable geek glasses. Kewpie said something about spiking up his hair like Sleazebag and Sleazebag laughs and tells him, "Don't go there!" I'm twelve, because I snigger and thought, "No, Kewpie, Sleazebag wants you to go here!" As we go for commercial break, Sleazebag is extending his hand like some alien mating ritual to Kewpie. I guess it's safe to say that Sleazebag has gotten over Bigboy and JD.
Next is Candice Coleman. I hate her denim skirt. She has a husky voice but nothing special. The song is also on the dull side, testing her range so much that I can see her pressing her stomach to get the high notes out. Her face is surprisingly unanimated, and her sole repertoire of showladyship is to sway her shoulders from left to right. Fun.
Miss Paula, fighting to stay lucid, could only mumble something about beautiful voices. I know, Paula, look, pretty butterflies! Now here's a Valium, baby, so hush hush (har har). Randy Randy states that Candice has a nice smoky voice but the song doesn't suit her at all. King Tut tells her that she must learn to put on a better performance. She must find the right song. It's weird but King Tut says that he sees a guy back there singing the exact song at the same time as Candice here. King Tut is surprisingly alert and less ennui-ridden today. Sleazebag must have given him a treat during the commercial break.
Candice shrugs as Ryan Sleazebag greets her in the Red Room. She says that she has tried her best, oh well. She blows a wink and a kiss at that guy who sang with her. At least she's grace under fire. I like the way she tilts her head, so cute.
Next, we have Rebecca Bond. She says she loves music from the 1950s and 1960s and then stuffs her ass in her mouth by claiming not to know who Shirley Bassey is. Well, I'm not fond of her gold wrap around her waist, but I think I'd love to have that black dress. Unfortunately, the singing seems to lack spark. She's loud, yes, but she also seems to be pushing her notes through her nostrils.
King Tut says that her boozy cabaret voice is not suitable for the show. Rebecca disagrees, dropping names like Aretha Franklin to support her case. Miss Paula disagrees with King Tut and likes Rebecca's voice, but we know people like her like everything while under the influence so who cares what she thinks. Especially when she is very obviously having problems trying to string her words - and thoughts - together. She's more animated than last week - Botox must be wearing off - but it's animated in a creepy scary singing old auntie way. Randy Randy says that Rebecca is not at her best tonight. The song is too old-fashioned - whatever that means - and it doesn't suit her. King Tut grins and says that the guys get it right again. Miss Paula snorts ungraciously, "Oh please!"
Maybe she's asking for another refill of her bottle of Valium.
In the Red Room, Rebecca tells Sleazebag that her voice can be versatile. She may sound old-fashioned, but she claims that her voice is also "developed", whatever that means. America, it's up to you. I'm no American, but I say why bother with her? I've heard better singers in late night cheap piano and blues bars.
Then we have Jacob John Smalley. Unlike JD, he's kinda cute. Sorry, it's shameful, I know, but my Jailbait Hottie Radar goes "Beep beep beep" right into overdrive when I see those tight curls. I want that color on my hair. What color is it? He wears a red shirt and tight trousers. He's Jailbait Timberlake redux. But his voice doesn't do much for me. However, I'd prefer to listen to his rendition of Brian McKnight's Anytime, at least until I get bored and the next hottie comes around. I must hand it to Jacob though - boy can sure flirt with the camera.
Miss Paula proves that this stage of intoxication, all she can slur out is "Good voice. Good job." But she manages to experience a three-second moment of perfect lucidity, long enough to add, "Ah, you're so cute!" before returning to her private but beautiful inner avalon. Randy Randy says that Jacob is always a few notes under and he doesn't enjoy Jacob's performance at all. Jacob is really a Smalley.
"I appreciate your comments because they help me learn blah blah blah..."
King Tut mercifully cuts in on Jacob's servile gushings. He says that Jacob has the look. Girls - and King Tut - will love him. But the performance is just not up to par. He addresses the others in the Red Room that they have to "raise the game" if they want to win the audience. If Jacob is performing in King Tut's private audition, he will have Jacob thrown out in thirty minutes. Or maybe he means "thrown out of his pants", I don't know. And to think this lech has the nerve to disqualify Frenchie Davis over photos that are no doubt in his personal stash? The bastard deserves to have his balls eaten by fireants.
"God bless you!" Jacob tells him, nods slightly, and flees to the Red Room. Oh please.
He tells Sleazebag that he loves you, me, everybody and America, and he can dance too if that's what they want of him. Yo dude, just hush, okay? Thanks.
Next is a lass named Hadas. She claims to look like Sandra Bullock. From an angle, yes. But her voice, shaky and just passable, is all wrong for You Light Up My Life. And those annoying overblown vocal acrobatics? Can someone drag her away? My ears are bleeding.
Miss Paula? Wake up, dear. Time for speakies. "Beautiful voice. Original rendition. You're beautiful." And so are you, darling. Now sleep tight. Randy Randy points out rightfully that Hadas' show offers no sparks. King Tut tells her that she is better than most of the top ten finalists last year, but this year, he is not so sure. He admits that this is a half-compliment from him.
Ryan Sleazebag tries to convince me that he's at least AC/DC by putting the move on Hadas. Try harder, dude, much harder. "Half a compliment from Simon is two compliments from other people," he tells her (or something like this anyway). Hadas' father says that he doesn't know if Hadas is the new American Idol (not in this lifetime and the next, buster), but he knows that Hadas is the new superstar. Well, Hadas could go onto Wet And Wild, I guess. That's superstardom, right? Sleazebag, ever the one for insightful remarks, tells Hadas that her father must be so proud of her. Well, someone has to be, I guess.
Next, Ruben(esque) Studly. He's big. He wears a huge ugly orange sports jersey with his 205 zip code on the chest. At least, I think that's the zipcode and not the number of bowls of whipped potato he has eaten thirty minutes ago. And those pants... oh my, oh. What a sexy stud! Where is that voice coming from? Now this is good. I love it! This guy can sure command the camera even with a wink or that adorable grin on his face, but that voice is amazing. He has range, soul, expression, and damn, this is one hot fat stud that knows how to steal my heart with just a note.
Marry me, Ruben! Be my own Luther Vandross.
Randy Randy stands up and applauds. Passion and conviction, yes - this is what he is looking for, so thank you, Ruben! Miss Paula, thinking that the show is over, wakes up and applauds before catching herself. She asks Ruben to come over so that she can give him a big hug. "Amazing," she manages to say as she shakes her head in amazement (or grogginess, who knows?). King Tut just smiles that evil way of his and says that Ruben, this is what this competition is all about. They are looking for a star. Ruben is a star. Unlike Dawn Frenchie who has a good voice but she just happens to show the world that she has private parts that she knows how to use very well.
Anyway, Ruben, ditch that 205 shirt.
Back in the Red Room, Kevin (Ruben's equally big older brother) and Ruben form a fat sandwich with Ryan Sleazebag as the baloney in the middle and then they - oomph! Sleazebag is enjoying it, heck, he has his left hand pressing down on his crotch, as if he's afraid that any unseemingly bulge may be showing. Because we all know that there is no sex in pop music. Needing to run to the men's room - gee, I wonder why - Sleazebag immediately asks Ruben to take them into the break. Ruben just lazily swings his hand forward and says, "We'll be right back." If Sleazebag's face is any indication, he is disappointed that Ruben didn't do anything more extravagant. Like whipping off his pants and moon the audience, perhaps.
Kimberweave Locke is next. She's Kimberweave because there are so many Kimberleys on this show and we need some ways to sort them out. There's Kimborlee, this is Kimberweave, and the next show we'll see Kimpanzee. Kimberweave looks good. Then she belts out a flawless rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow (again) and while she looks good, the girl just stands there like a plank with lungs. Dramatic high note stretched from here to eternity aside, I think teenyboppers will drop dead from boredom watching her sing. And despite its pretensions, this show is all about the teenyboppers. Don't believe me? "On a moment like thiiiiiis..." I rest my case.
Randy Randy gives another standing ovation, and Miss Paula follows. Careful, dear, don't topple backwards like you almost did. King Tut says that technically Kimberweave is the best of the bunch, but she emits no spark. He'll give Ruben a ten for personality, but for Kimberweave, he will offer a four and the half. The Sweetpeas disagree, with Miss Paula even smacking King Tut on the arm. Randy Randy says that he gives Kimberweave at least an eight in the personality department and asks Kimberweave how much she will rate King Tut on his personality.
"Zero!" Kimberweave answers, and the Sweetpeas and King Tut crack up. People who criticize are generally miserable gits, she announces, to which King Tut flatly answers, "I have a traumatic childhood." His grin widens as he grudgingly announces that maybe he'll give her a five for personality after all.
"I'll thank you but I don't have it in me," Kimberweave tells him. "I thought you were sexy but now you suck," she says as she high-fives Miss Paula. Then she demands a high-five from King Tut, that cheeky lil' miss thing.
King Tut is pleased. "Sexy?" He'll up her score to six.
That's it, Kimberweave. That's personality. Why can't you channel this in your performance?
Back in the Red Room, Kimberweave announces that her wit is a result of law school. See, I know law school is good for at least one thing.
Cut to bizarre scenes of the Eight working out. Ruben is a sight, but what is truly scary is the Hairless Wookie ripping and going berserk on King Tut's photo. I hate to see what happens if he loses.
Finally, we have a pretty but insecure-looking Jennifer Fuentes. She frets over her choice of songs... before settling on Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody. Yes, accompanied by only a piano. That girl has guts, at least. One thing I notice is that her insecurities and nervous twitches completely evaporate as she breaks into song. It's very obvious that she is really working her vocal chords over the notes pretty hard but she's lively. She moves. She has spunk. She knows she is a lost case but for finishing like a trooper, I admire her for that. Vocally, she's way off, but she has me tapping my toes. If there is a sympathy vote in this show, she'll win mine for coming off like a trooper.
Randy Randy thinks that she was better in the auditions. Miss Paula gives her an A+ for daring to pick a song that needs more than a piano to work. And er... King Tut finally cuts through the diplomacy and tells her that she should have just stayed in the Red Room and never come out. At this point, Miss Paula actually slapped King Tut - "That's so mean!" (And picture me telling hubby: "Well, she woke up too late for the show, it's almost ended.") But she concedes to Jennifer, "You chose the wrong song." Randy Randy concurs with this. Jennifer says that she can sing another song, but King Tut cuts her off. "There is no more time." There is no time for people who made bad decisions. Just ask Frenchie.
Oh well. Time for the half-an-hour time waster episode. Half an hour just to announce three names? Thank God Frenchie is gone from this sorry mess, isn't she?
We have the eight of them standing in a straight line as cheap-looking white light shine on them. It's like a garage-filmed home-made video of someone who has seen too many Star Trek movies.
Ryan Sleazebag is wearing a black shirt with a horizontal blue strip of scenery across his much abused pectoral region. It's NASCAR Gay Day today. We have Miss Paula in all black (looking real fine), Randy Randy, and, er, a TV/computer thing with King Tut's face on it. King Tut says that he is in hiding after Sleazebag showed the world his Red Speedo Hazard pictures on the show the day before. He claims to be wearing those Speedos now. Good. I'll never be able to sleep tonight. Thank you, King Tut.
Sleazebag tries to kill time by bantering with the Eight. Something about Ruben being straight (huh?) and the Hairless Kewpie needing to use the bathroom one more time. I don't want to go there, so let's move on. Everyone likes Kimberweave for sassing King Tut, so much so that Sleazebag is inspired to ask viewers to vote whether King Tut is sexy or King Tut sucks. Why can King Tut be both - a sexy sucker? Er, forget I said that.
They show a viewing party at the Fox studio, where Kimberweave stands up and cheers when she sees herself on TV. Freak. Hey, I guess JD isn't holding viewing parties at his home anymore? Heh heh heh. Isn't that guy a twerp or what?
King Tut asks Sleazebag what he is wearing. Um, Tutty, the world is watching, please keep the cybersex thing off-camera, okay? If you can oust Frenchie, you damn well can't do this cyberslutty thing on TV, you bastard. King Tut asks that he is in New York, in somewhere called Non-Sequitur. Sleazebag asks King Tut to be quiet as he decides to announce the results.
Jennifer Wanna Dance With Somebody - out. She perks up at first, thinking that "America agrees..." means that she's in the Top 3, but bursts into tears and weeps into Candice's shoulder when she learns otherwise. Oh get a grip, girl. You could always get into a soap opera. You display the overblown melodramatics that will be perfect for those shows. When Kelly Cluckson turns old and wizened while having to sing A Moment Like This for the millionth time, you will have the last laugh. Candice - out. Ruben is so nervous that he doesn't notice Rebecca running her hand saucily up and down his left meaty arm. But he's in! Yay! Rebecca, however, is out. The Hairless Kewpie - Sleazebag calls him "Buddy" - in! Hadas the Superstar - out. Kimberweave in, predictably.
America shows good taste tonight.
The Hairless Kewpie is a very touchy-feely guy. He grasps Kimberweave's hands like a drowning man during the Final Two result, and he is all hands where Ruben and Sleazebag are concerned.
Ruben is announced as the first of the two destined for the finals. Kevin comes out to hug, or rather, manboob-bang Ruben, but Seacrest just has to squeeze between the two Volcanic Manboobs of Power and ka-boom! "I literally have blood running out of my nose," he announces cheerfully, a pervert in Chubby Manboob Heaven.
Kimberweave gets the other spot, leaving poor Hairless Kewpie hoping for a wild card. Hairless Kewpie doesn't even get to sing like Ruben and Kimberweave, maybe because the producers have learned from the last show after how Kimborlee literally stole the show from the nondescript Bigboy and overwrought personality-free Tomato.
Ah, Kewpie and Ruben really make my day. Great voices, great performances, and of course, hilarious comedy from Jennifer Wanna Dance With Somebody. This episode is pure gold compared to the lifeless previous one.