Season 3: Don't Rain on My Parade

No, this is not a recap of the "Halfway Home" special. I don't do that kind of recaps. Okay, I confess - I didn't even watch that show. Did I miss anything? I don't think so.

"And then there were five," Ryan Sleazebag announces, and adds that America decides the fates of the Five as the camera pans on the Five in question on stage. The clock is ticking as to when this wretched season will end and I can continue with my life again. I don't particularly care for any of these contestants, although I like Fantasia the best. But while I like her, the rest of this season is so aggravatingly bad that it is hard to muster any enthusiasm for the rest of the show.

Anyway, on with the credits. I think they put more effort into producing the credits than into producing the latest American Idol CD, which sounds as if it's recorded on a budget that is even smaller than William Hung's CD.

The audience is cheering and waving their signs. Ryan "Big Boys Only" Sleazebag walks onto the stage in his Respectable Now outfit, today's color being brown. He looks very nice for once, having shaved and lost his disheveled bedhead hair look. But that's what you do when your man is in danger of being stolen by a hussy like Miss Paula - Sleazebag is dressed to kill today and he has also spiked Miss Paula's Perrier with an extra large dose of happy powder. He tells the audience that he is an emotional wreck today because he is still reeling from the ratings of his talkshow. No, he says that he's as affected as everybody by the departure of Rank Sinatra last week, a moment when there was no dry eye in the house. Yes, there was no dry eyes at my house too. I am crying in joy. Hallelujah! Sleazebag goes on to muse over the "irony" of Rankie leaving just a week before Big Band Week - which is the theme this week - and he is sure that Rankie must be bitter but his spirit will still be with the show. Or something. He makes it sound as if Rankie is dead. Well, Rankie may as well be. To me, that is. Rankie who?

Oh yes, that Myth that Rankie will somehow, miraculously, improbably shine during Big Band Week when he is a black hole of music talent every other week. While I can easily imagine that his fans would be delusional enough to nurture this belief, I am puzzled at the media's apparent buying into this myth as well. Do they listen to Big Band music? The range! The verve! Big Band music can be vocally demanding and exacts a high degree of showmanship skills from the contestants. The idea that Rank Sinatra, who has no vocal range or sense of pitch or rhythm and who performs with the alarcity of a stump on stage, can somehow come to life and pull on a show-stopping performance of, say, New York, New York - well, I find that a little too fantastically improbable to believe.

Besides, I would bet my last cookie that the show producers deliberately postponed Big Band Week until Rankie is booted because there's no way they want to risk him actually turning good (yeah, when elephants dance the ballet) and becoming a laughingstock of a winner that they have no idea how to market. So let's stop with all that "Rank Sinatra will shine on Big Band Week and he is robbed" nonsense, shall we? He is not good and not even a Frank Sinatra minus one track playing in the background can magically transform him from dweeb to hip.

Sleazebag gives the lowdown on the judges. King "Big Egos Only" Tut is described as a big man with big head. Sleazebag calls Miss "Big Nostrils For Maximal Efficiency" Paula a "big talent" without any hint of condescension, so he's not as smart as he thinks he is. Randy Randy, apparently, "used to be big but now he's just" Randy Randy. Thanks a lot, Sleazebag. Now sit down and chew on the leg of the stool.

Calling Big Band music as tunes of King Tut's teenaged years, Sleazebag introduces the Big Band Music 101 clip for members in the audience who may be thinking that tonight must be the night when they sing "old band music" like New Kids On The Block stuff. Yikes, I hope I haven't given Uncle Nigel any ideas for upcoming themes. No one is hateful enough to deserve the fate of having to perform Step By Step and I'll Be Loving You Forever before an audience. Sleazebag's voiceover introduces the emergence of the Big Band Swing era in the 1930s. Explaining that it was a time when performers and musicians share the limelight on stage, he drops names of the popular artists of that time, right up to the triumphant eras of the crooners like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Tony Bennett. Sleazebag concludes that the genre is loved by the young and old alike, which is exactly the nonsensical feel-good meaningless thing one would say in insincere PSAs. I mean, come on, Big Band Music just isn't relevant to contemporary landscape, not now, not even with the emergence of milquetoasts like Michael Babble and Josh Groanbane that find their audience in elevators of middle-class shopping malls everywhere.

Back to the stage, Sleazebag contends that the Five will have a hard time as they have big shoes to fill - and a band to front. Wedding singer Latoya will probably roll up her eyes at that statement.

Because what the Five say and think is Very Important, the screen at the back flares to life and the Five, seated in the Red Room, addresses Sleazebag's Very Important Questions. Fantasia explains that the Five will be singing two songs each, one that means something to them and one that is "for fun". Boy, the Five must have burned midnight oil studying the lyric sheets of the Big Band tunes available to find one that resonates with their life. Yeah, I believe that too. She says that Rank Sinatra has sat her down and gave her the "rundown" so she's ready for Big Band Week now. Um, why is Fantasia listening to that milquetoast tune-free red-headed albino? No wonder she gets accused of trying to pander to Rank Sinatra fans. Meanwhile, Princess Jasmelisma trills and babyspeaks, telegraphing her utterly insincere brand of babble and irritating me annoyingly. Huff Granddaddy is excited because performing with a band will result in a lot of positive energy or something. Whatever - he seems to think that he's a special child sent to Earth to make everyone happy and I don't like to spoil the delusions of creepy man-childs.

Sleazebag points out that the band they've hired today is paid a fortune and asks the band to demonstrate what it can do. The band obliges. Thinking back, I must say that they are the best performers of the evening. Where can I vote for them? They are the American Idols!

Sleazebag says that tonight will be one to remember and promises that Piggy Di Guano will be serenading everyone after the break. I can't wait.

King Tut is laughing and Sleazebag is smiling and chuckling as he leans forward beside him. Ah, they're all over each other again, how sweet. Sleazebag reminds people to vote if they want to keep their favorites in the competition, explains once more that the Five will be singing two songs each, and squeals as King Tut pinches his bum. I'm kidding about the bum-pinching. I think.

Goodness, whoever dressed Miss Piggy (I hear that the person responsible is Piggy's mother) must be tarred and sent to remedial classes under the tutelage of the Fab Five at once. What is with that blue monstrosity? Miss Piggy looks pregnant. Hmm, Pregnant Miss Piggy sounds like a cool nickname for her. Pregnant Miss Piggy kicks off with Someone To Watch Over Me, which is proficient and listenable, if utterly bland and uninteresting. It has the expected high notes in all the expected places. The whole performance comes off like a pageant contestant mechanically performing a well-rehearsed sing-out.

She then thanks everyone and dedicates her next song to the other contestants, for everyone, and even for the "veterans" that are watching over "the country" (Iraq?). She then asks everyone not to be sad because she's now going to perform Judy Garland's Get Happy. Wow, she's such a introspective teenager, that Pregnant Miss Piggy. Her Get Happy has an even more mechanical feel to the performance, from her thrusting up her big bum in what seems to be some attempt at being cute to her staged flirtation with the piano geezer.

Randy Randy says that he is a fan of Pregnant Miss Piggy because whenever he looks at her, he stops thinking about her age. In a non-sexual way, of course. He calls her "the bomb" and says that she is a "seasoned talent" who did a "very good job". Miss Paula, who looks more smashed that the chandeliers on the Titanic, mumbles that Pregnant Miss Piggy is everything Randy Randy says she is, plus she's a classy young lady and the songs suited her perfectly. Piggy asks King Tut whether he likes her dress better this time around. Let me guess: she didn't look into the mirror when she put on that monstrosity. King Tut says that he'd like to make it clear that he did not choose that outfit for her. He thinks that Big Band is Miss Piggy's "sound" but the problem here is that she is a sixteen-year old who sounds good singing songs that are 50-years old. Miss Paula protests that Miss Piggy is just singing the songs to fit this week's theme so it's not Piggy's fault that King Tut finds the song selections odd. That's what she is trying to say, but because Miss Paula is three sheets to the wind tonight, her words are so garbled up that I don't blame King Tut for not understanding her even less than usual. King Tut points out that Big Band music has "no relevance today" and repeats what he has once said about Piggy - she has "an old soul". Pregnant Miss Piggy squeals that she will take that as a compliment.

Sleazebag tells America that if they find Pregnant Miss Piggy "the bomb" like Randy Randy says she is, then they should quickly vote once the lines are open. Piggy squeals to the audience that she loves them too, right before Sleazebag announces that Huff Granddaddy will be up next after the break.

Back from the break, Sleazebag is sitting on a stool on stage and reminds everyone to buy tickets for the tour, available later this month, and to check the official website for more details. I'll pass. He then proceeds to introduce the "big man" with the "big smile", Huff Granddaddy.

Ugh. Huff Granddaddy's first performance is Cheek To Cheek. Heaven indeed. His voice is competent, but watching his face when the camera does close-up, it seems as if he has lost all control on his facial ticks. He bursts into his creepy wide smile at the oddest moments during the performance, as if he's self-consciously making himself smile whenever he takes a breather pause during his singing. This probably explains some odd breathing pattern during his performance. Of course, throughout the whole performance, he never seems to blink even once. When I listen to the mp3 of the performance, he sounds very decent if bland, but with his unnerving, unblinking wide stare and his creepy circus clown smile, I find it very hard to enjoy his performance. He scares me. Yikes!

He then thanks the audience and points out that Cheek To Cheek is a classic Irving Berlin song taken from the Fred Astaire movie Top Hat. He will now perform Louis Armstrong's What A Wonderful World because remember, he's a Special Chile sent from Heavens Above to make people happy, happy, happy. Incidentally, people who keep bagging on Fantasia for not singing Big Band Music tonight should realize that this song, which came out in the early 1960s, isn't Big Band Music either. You people will have to find other trivial reasons to hate Fantasia, I'm afraid, heh heh.

What A Wonderful World is very similar to My Heart Will Go On in that this is one overused, overexposed song. Huff will have to deliver a very original take on this song to keep my attention. Alas, he performs a safe and unimaginative rendition of that song, standing there and consciously keeping his smile and stare on his face as he snoozes his way through the song. For some reason, the song is performed at a speed that is twice that of the Louis Armstrong classic.

At least he's not doing the Toilet Ladle dance, I guess.

Randy Randy chuckles and points out that the audience is crazy for Huff Granddaddy. But he finds that while Huff had picked two great songs, the performances were "really safe" if "really good". Randy Randy finds himself hoping for something that will wow him in the performances, maybe a high note here and there, but alas, he is disappointed. Huff Granddaddy then gives him a high note, and let's just say that I'm really glad that he didn't try pulling that high note that during his performance. Miss Paula gibbers that she loves the performance to the point that she feels as if she's at a wedding. Her eyes, by the way, are completely dead. She looks simultaneously pathetic and terrifying. King Tut asks Miss Paula whether she wrote the gibberish the contestants speak inbetween performances because he thinks that they sound just like her. Miss Paula wonders how that can ever be a bad thing. Yeah, I wonder too.

King Tut says that if he wants to be honest, he agrees with Randy Randy about Huff's performance. The audience predictably booes him. King Tut says that "it is being cool" but Huff's performance can be found in any cruise liner. Miss Paula and he disagree and argue, with Randy Randy chiming in his agreement when King Tut insists that Huff is being too safe. Then again, can I blame Huff for being safe? Whenever he doesn't do that Smiling Special Chile act and sing something other than happy songs, they slam him and wish that the "real" Huff Granddaddy is back. And when he plays it safe, he's accused of being, er, safe. What is one to do under this situation? Poor Huff Granddaddy.

Sleazebag quickly breaks up the argument between King Tut and Miss Paula when it's apparent that Miss Paula is incapable of delivering a coherent statement. He asks people to vote fpr Huff if they like him. If you ask me, Uncle Nigel should just fire her and replace her with fellow train wreck Melanie Griffith. At least Melanie would come cheaper. Or how about Janice Dickinson, who is at least an amusing train wreck on America's Next Top Model? As the show goes into a commercial break, Sleazebag turns to reassure Huff that he is still the Special Chile that everybody loves to smile and be happy with.

After the break, Sleazebag strikes a pose before the band and promises big voices to go with the big band tonight. Hello, Latoya!

Or is that Blahtoya now? Her Too Close For Comfort is well-rendered with lots of predictable high notes, but her performance is utterly forgettable. She has a nice voice but I am hard pressed to remember what she has just sung once the last high note is over. The fact that she repeats the chorus again and again doesn't help make the song any livelier.

She then thanks everybody for listening to her - what, she expects them to yell at her to shut up? - and says that she chose that song because it is one of her favorites. And now she will follow the footsteps of Natalie Nicole... er, Natalie Nicole... oh dear, she asks someone to help her out here. What is that Natalie woman's name again? That's right, Natalie Cole! Latoya wants to follow the footsteps of a woman whose name she can't remember. Talk about irony as she's a forgettable if good contestant in her own right! Latoya now performs Don't Rain On My Parade from Barbra Streisand's Funny Girl. Again, Fantasia haters who bag on Fantasia for her song selection should remember that Don't Rain On My Parade isn't actually Big Band Music either.

Since Barbra Streisand is the original Glory Note Ho who belts her songs out until they are wrung dry from any subtlety, Latoya's performance of Don't Rain Of My Parade is predictably a two-minute high note shriek and maybe two seconds of actual singing. And when she's done, I can't really remember anything about her performance other than it's loud, very loud. Latoya really needs to stop holding so much of herself in her performance, especially at this late stage when she becomes the focus of attention. She's lucky in a sense that Fantasia polarizes people and should it come to a showdown between Latoya and Fantasia, there are many people who will vote for Latoya because they don't want Fantasia to win. But if she wants to have a music career after American Idol, Latoya cannot afford to be just another voice among many. She must stand out.

Randy Randy and Miss Paula give Latoya a standing ovation along with the audience, because Latoya shrieks high notes all over the place so It Must Be Quality, Folks. "Listen. check it out! For me, for you, I love you everytime. For me, for you, this is the kind of music you are meant to sing!" Randy Randy gibbers to Latoya. He thinks that Latoya manages to show some personality in those performances. Yes, and it's called "boring", Randy Randy. Miss Paula thinks that Big Band Music is another kind of album that Latoya can put out to sell millions of copies. She then compares the performances to an Olympics event where Latoya will win a gold medal. Where are the men in the white coats? Can they please take her away and keep her far, far away from her medicine cabinet? Meanwhile King Tut rates her performance a ten out of ten "for a Broadway performance" and explains to her that he is actually complimenting her.

Sleazebag explains how people can vote for Latoya and says that Princess Jasmelisma is next. As they cut to a break, he compliments Latoya on a work well done. She whispers something in his ear and he nods. Yes, she'll sing on his and King Tut's anniversary bash. What kind of song does he want her to perform? Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy is okay, but she finds Madonna's Justify My Love a little too risque. And so they discuss until the break is over and it's time for Princess Fake Aloha Kitty to simper and prance her way onto the stage.

Sleazebag walks among the audience, but alas, there aren't any hot boys for him to drool over tonight. Oh well, he now introduces Aloha Kitty, her flower, and her ballads.

The Way You Look Tonight is her first song and her voice is quite pitchy at places. Overall, this is even more boring than Pregnant Miss Piggy's performances. She just sits down for the first verse and the chorus. Her singing is mechanical for the most part and her cracked final high note is embarrassing.

She then thanks everybody and dedicates her songs to her friends and families whom she misses and loves, which is exactly the kind of simpering airheaded nonsense a fake bimbo will say. Now it's time to "jazz up" a Lerner and Lowe classic from Brigadoon - is everyone proud that she memorized the names better than Latoya did? - so let's listen to her perform for the first time something that isn't a slow, predictable, and draggy ballad.

Almost Like Being In Love is, eh, almost in tune, I guess, and almost not that awkward to watch but still awkward enough. She sings mechanically as usual, but she makes things worse by stomping across the stage left and right in a wooden attempt at being lively. She seems to run out of breath into the second half of the song and her last high note is really horrible - her voice cracks and she runs out of breath, forcing her to cut short her high note into an embarrassing croak.

Randy Randy is still a fan of hers but he isn't wowed by the performance. He's looking for more from her, he's looking for "dude". Don't ask. Miss Paula enjoys Jasmelisma's second performance because she thinks that Jasmelisma shows so much growth there. Jasmelisma giggles and agrees because she is so cute that way. Bitch, please. King Tut disagrees - he thinks that Jasmelisma has been very steady and consistent so far, but because she's become predictable, he thinks that she is "vulnerable" tonight. He doesn't think that being pleasant is enough for her at this stage of the competition. Randy Randy agrees with him.

Sleazebag stands beside Jasmelisma and repeats what Randy Randy said: Randy Randy's looking for "dude". Jasmelisma says that she's no idea what Randy Randy means by that. Sleazebag says that if America thinks that Jasmelisma has her "dudes" - and dude, that comes out horribly wrong, so so wrong - America should then vote for her. Randy Randy explains that he's looking for "a bomb". Miss Paula cuts in and asks King Tut and Randy Randy why those two men don't just go up and sing if they think they know so much about singing. Randy Randy stands up to go but King Tut chickens out, forcing Randy Randy to sit back down too. Sleazebag explains that King Tut only sings to his girlfriend Terri. If you say so, "Terri".

By the way, I hear that Randy Randy does sing during the commercial break with Corbin Bensen, who's among the audience. Apparently his singing is pretty okay. His singing is better than Miss Paula's, I suspect.

After the break, Sleazebag poses in the control room and wonders whether the best has been saved for last. It's up to America to decide - here is Fantasia!

She launches into Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love. It's an odd song choice and definitely an interesting one, and I give her props for taking risks especially at this late stage of the show when everyone else is content to play it safe. The lower register feels a little pitchy but Fantasia has no problems pulling off the performance and making it the most interesting of the evening. This won't be her best performance, but I like it because it's different, unexpected, and good enough.

She thanks everyone and says that she chose that song because it reminded her of her brother and he drives her crazy. She dedicates her next song to her baby girl, which is a harmless thing to say, so I don't understand why there are people who jump on her and say that she is pimping her kid for votes again. Get some perspective, people.

What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life is very nice. It's not as good as Summertime, but this one has everything the other performances by other contestants lack: passion and some raw emotional undertones in the singing. That's what differs Fantasia from Latoya in my opinion. Latoya merely sings but Fantasia seems to embody every song she performs on AI, bar that subpar Gloria Estefan Week singalong. She performs, she works the stage, and she commands attention, unlike Latoya who just stands there and hits out the high notes in cold, unerring passionless accuracy. This song is a wonderful way to end the day.

Randy Randy says that Fantasia has sung one of his favorite songs of all time (I think he is referring to What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life) and she was brilliant. Saying that it's all about tone, he calls her performance "subdued" by "still unbelieavable". Miss Paula is crying as she points out how Fantasia has brought her to tears. She sniffles and King Tut puts a comforting arm around her. Sleazebag plots to double the dose of whatever it is that he has slipped into her drink tonight. King Tut tells Fantasia that it is clear to him that she and Latoya are in a different league from the others.

Fantasia wants to put her arm around Sleazebag's waist as they hug but Sleazebag effortlessly breaks off the embrace in time. He prefers Latoya after all. Sleazebag tells people how to vote for her and then recaps the performances of the night. Then, he asks Randy Randy and Miss Paula to quickly comment on King Tut's saying that the Two Divas are in a different league from the others. Randy Randy would put Pregnant Miss Piggy together with the Two Divas in an elite league of their own, but otherwise he agrees with King Tut. Miss Paula just murmurs that she had a great time watching everybody perform. They are all red-eyed and sniffling, by the way, even King Tut, so whatever happy stuff Miss Paula is having, she must have shared with the two men.

Sleazebag reminds everyone to vote for his or her favorites because watching this show without voting is like "stealing". Huh? I guess he's referring to people who don't vote "stealing" from the projected revenues from text-messagings. If you don't vote, you are not paying for Uncle Nigel's upcoming vacation to Bahamas, so you are stealing from Uncle Nigel, people! Don't do that! Listen to Sleazebag! Sleazebag then thanks people for keeping him and every undeserving wretch working on this show overpaid and overfed and he's out.

As the credits roll, Latoya, Pregnant Miss Piggy, and Jasmelisma embrace and do some girl-cheer thing while Huff Granddaddy and Fantasia stand aside to do what seems like the bobo together. I guess one can say that J Hu, Huff Granddaddy, and Fantasia aren't too close to Latoya, heh. Then Sleazebag joins in to unite them all and everybody dance together on stage. And then the show's done.

The results show. Hurrah! The useless Sexy Manly Voiceover Guy has been put out of commission again today. The credits just roll without any preliminary babble. This and the fact that the result show is only half an hour long may suggest that things won't be so bad tonight.

Ryan "Don't Tell Him It's Me" Sleazebag walks out in what seems like the same outfit he wore last night. Let me guess - he spent the night in the studio with a certain somebody for some Desperate Make Up Forget That Floozy Shag, snicker, snicker. The camera pans on some signs in the audience, including one that compares Pregnant Miss Piggy with a dynamite. Sleazebag rehashes that canned spiel about the cruelty of the voters sending one of the Five home tonight, and introduces the judges who craves applause like their "oxygen". He then recaps the performances and manages to pimp Latoya and Fantasia as the ones to vote for.

Sleazebag turns to the Five seated on the seats and exchanges some canned Q&A with them. Jasmelisma acts giddy and insists that she's so torn up over the elimination of other contestants and it's, like, wow, so hard and stuff, blah blah slap that bitch for me, somebody. Fantasia doesn't have a clear idea how she made Miss Paula cry last night (hint: it's not Fantasia, it's more like some happy fantasy pills) but she felt her own song, you know. Sometimes Fantasia really should exercise some care in what she says. I like her, but she often comes off as too arrogant for her own good. Sleazebag chats on with the Five some more but I'm more caught up in observing the spin of the fan on the ceiling above me.

Let's get the Ford clip out of the way now. To Boogie Wonderland, the Five drive through a neighborhood where fat people dance (that's supposed to be funny, see?) along with old women (who are actually young men in bad wigs), some using a running hose as a prop (that's also supposed to be funny, and it would be, if it's King Tut dancing with the hose and not some anonymous fatty hired for this clip). Fantasia looks horrified. So am I. Next!

After the break, Sleazebag reminds people that they can always attend the tour to watch their favorites perform the songs they are ordered to sing in a way they are ordered to obey, just to make up for the disappointment of these favorites being voted off for sucking really badly. In short, don't blame the show, buy tickets and watch the tour instead. The show makes you go crazy over some talentless WASP male loser, encourages you to channel your lack of restrain and your unbridled sexual/marriage/teenybopper-porn fantasies into this loser, and now it wants you to buy expensive tickets for all 52 venues as well as spend hours making stupid signs and ugly costumes, before locking the kids in the bedroom with the TV and the pizza delivery number so that you and your friends can lock up the house and spend two months stalking said favorite artist across the country. In short, be a "real" American Idol fan!

Now, Sleazebag will pull out the two person with the lowest votes. Wait, he lied, he'll just order the Five out one by one and repeat what the judges said about them last night before asking them to step back in the line. Then it's a commercial break. Sleazebag invites people to take part in the Ford contest on the official website to win lots of goodies, such as tickets to the finale which I'm sure everyone would just die to have. He asks Pregnant Miss Piggy and Latoya to step forward. The crowd sighs. Oh no, another round of media circus proclaiming how Racist and Unfair that Latoya is in the Bottom Two! No, as it turns out, Sleazebag also asks Fantasia to step forward. The three ladies are safe! Princess Jasmelisma and Huff Granddaddy are in the Bottom Two. The crowd looks to Uncle Nigel for instructions whether they should cheer or scream but Uncle Nigel is busy preening and complimenting himself in the mirror, so the audience ends up doing some strange cheering-booing sound instead.

King Tut tells Sleazebag that it's "obvious" to him why Huff and Jasmelisma are in the Final Two. Those two deserve to be in the Bottom Two, he says, and repeats that Latoya and Fantasia are in a different league from the others. He will have to say goodbye to one of the Bottom Two, but he doesn't sound too upset by the prospect. But one can always rely on Miss Paula to be upset. She tells them that they are both talented and they will get recording contracts, of that she has no doubt. Randy Randy coldly says that those two gave the worst performances last night so America got it right.

By the way, both Huff and Jasmelisma are still smiling all this while. I don't think that they are capable of displaying any other facial expressions.

Sleazebag invites them to sing. Huff Granddaddy launches into Cheek To Cheek and lifts his arms to display those lovely wet sweat stains under his armpits. He's barking out every syllable - "Owt! Togedder! Dancing! Cheek! To! Cheek!" - and he's still trying too hard to keep his smile and wide-eyed stare intact when he sings. It's okay, Huff, to not force yourself to smile so unnaturally once in a while. Then Jasmelisma sings. Zzzzzz.

"The tension is unbearable!" Sleazebag says and then announces that Huff Granddaddy is leaving. Awww, that's so sad. No creepy unblinking eyes, no one-note happy Motown songs, no eeriely fixated smiles, no hyperactive man-chile antics. Wait, am I supposed to be sad? Huff embraces Jasmelisma, who should go tonight before Huff were not for those annoying people in Hawaii, and congratulates her and tells her that he loves her. He is still grinning from ear to ear and so is she. Watching those two robots programmed to smile come what may, I can't help feeling sorry for the both of them. How they must have watched us human beings and feel envious of our ability to experience a myriad of emotions! It must be tough, being programmed to smile and be happy 24/7 like that.

Sleazebag once more recounts Huff's experience as the one who was dropped only to get called back when someone in Group Four made the mistake of hopping into the driver's seat, as if people haven't heard this story six thousand times already. Huff thanks America, exposing those wet armpits again. He must be short-circuiting from all that smiling and the oil must be leaking from his armpits. Then it's time for the Eulogy video, where again people are reminded that Huff Granddaddy came this far after getting back into the show when someone else decided to drive a car one fateful day. Huff calls American Idol his over the rainbow experience and he is never happier than he is now. Well, until he discovers anti-perspirants, I guess.

Fantasia is crying as Sleazebag and Huff Granddaddy do the Toilet Ladle dance together. Latoya just smiles tightly in that manner of hers that can so easily be interpreted as smugness if one wants to irrationally dislike her. Huff Granddaddy says that he won't stop here despite being eliminated from American Idol. Sleazebag then brings up the fact that next week will be Donna Summer Week. Does this mean that Jasmelisma will writhe on stage and stimulate orgasm while gasping her way through Love To Love You Baby?

Huff Granddaddy now launches into What A Wonderful World as his bye-bye performance. After all, he's being kicked out thanks to Hawaii and it's still a wonderful world. Or something. As Huff sings, Sleazebag stands by the Four, who are also standing on the seats, his hands behind his back. It's actually a funnier sight than it should have been. The Four finally walk up to Huff and Latoya hugs him from behind. Not to be outdone, the two Pretty Princesses quickly charge up and hug Huff too. Fantasia stands to Huff's right with a "Can you believe these insincere biatches?" look on her face as she looks at those women. They all try to look upset at having made into the Final Four while Huff, Special Chile Huff, happily croons his way to the end, happy happy happy, the valiant little tin soldier of American Idol with a smile on his face even as his armpits and then the rest of him melt away in the flames into a dollar-sign shaped lump that is just not meant to be.