Hi again, Idol recap readers! As always, it's an honor and a pleasure sitting in for Claire Zulkey, the best damn singing competition post-show analysis writer on the internet. She'll be resuming her duties next week, but tonight, I'll continue being plagued with technical difficulties. Just as, last night, many viewers were cheated out of (or spared, depending on your perspective) seeing Adam Lambert's "Mad World" emo-stravaganza, I had some kind of bizarre glitch with my digital cable that prevented me from seeing the first ten minutes of tonight's results show. I'm sure you'll all fill me in with what happened, and I just bet that it was something really crucial, too, and not just a bunch of bullshit padding.
By the time I was able to pick up on the show, we were into the not-at-all-pandering "Ford Music Video" segment, this time featuring a campy magic show theme, brought to us by auteur Shane Drake, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Adam Lambert. His stage direction to Adam is to be "menacing", but he settles for Adam's compromise, "theatrical", or, as some might call it, "campy". Danny Gokey, sporting a Paul Stanley star on his eye, explains that in the commercials, they "get" to try again if they screw up, unlike on the show. It's pretty clear that he means "are condemned to", but soon enough, it's over, and I can stop pounding Southern Comfort until my heart explodes.
Matt Giraud points out that the mayor of Kalamazoo is in the audience tonight, which proves that this show is the bomb diggety, because that motherfucker don't come out for just anything. Finally, we get to the callouts: Adam, Kris Allen and Anoop Desai are asked to stand. After some more verbal blowjobs from the judges, Adam is declared safe, as is Kris, and Noop Dogg takes his place on the Stool of Shame.
Next up: Flo Rida makes an appearance, delivering a totally charisma-free posse throwdown of his inescapable electro-club anthem "Right Round". Flash-in-the-pan vocalist Ke$ha wanders around singing the vocal hook, and more than a few current and former Idol contestants get a chilling glimpse of their future.
Back to the competition: Danny Gokey is declared safe in a tension-free moment. Matt is also safe, after a cute little fake-out from the resourceless Ryan Toothpaste. Scott McIntyre — sitting in the front row, as predicted weeks ago by our own Claire Zulkey — is led to his own spot on the Stools of Shame, as he's in the bottom three. Blind people haters all over the world let out a cheer.
The girls get called up for their moment of tension: Allison Iraheta, who's dressed like a middle-aged lesbian, and Lil Rounds, sporting some kind of chain-mail v-neck. We learn that Lil is in the bottom three for the first time, giving Scott a jaunty "hey, baby" as she takes her spot on the Stool of Shame. Simon notes that this is the first time the judges have considered using their save, on one person in particular — leaving absolutely no one to wonder who he's talking about.
Kellie Pickler still has a career of some sort! Who knew? Certainly not me; I always hated her and hoped she was quietly making sad little porno loops by now. But here she is, bug-eyed and as bad a singer as ever, strutting on the Idol stage as well as a woman who clearly hasn't mastered the art of walking in heels can strut, and singing her terrible new song. For those of you who decried Meghan Joy Corkry's robotic on-stage dance moves, check out Kellie, who appears to have been poorly assembled out of broken Tinkertoys.
Finally, the big reveal: Lil gets a safety, and after a couple of typically ham-fingered fake-outs, , it turns out that Scott is the lowest vote-getter. Really, it's an act of mercy; he's leagues out of his depth by now. He's allowed to "sing for his life" by repeating the number from last night that nobody liked the first time he did it, which is a super idea. He's off the beat by the middle of the performance, and he still can't hit the high note; for all the talk of what an inspiration he is, it would be cruel to keep him on any further. The female judges stand up and dance, while Randy eats some concealed mozzerella sticks and Simon has a wonderful dream where he counts all his money. In the end, Simon is called upon to make the call, and Scott is outta here. It's a good thing, too; he can get back to his Jesus-music career, and we don't have to listen to a guy who, odds-beating role model though he may be, has no place in the competition at this point. Scott's a decent sort, but he's come as far as he needs to go.
- I got nothin', really. I find these results shows as excruciating as the rest of you do; you really only need to watch the last five minutes. So instead of trying to find something clever to say about a bunch of people whoring their new records and Ford trying to pass off a GT commercial as something artistically challenging, I will instead sign off by urging you ever-clever commenters to make up a bunch of entertaining lies about what I missed in the first ten minutes of the episode. Thanks for reading, and thanks to Claire for letting me take the chair this week!