American Idling | 09.20

american-idol_sm.jpgAnd, by gum, Kris Allen’s CUTE!!!!







DEAR AMERICA: You came through. As much as I have no doubt that Adam Lambert is going to have a successful career in performance rock, I am pleased that you’ve chosen to recognize the quieter, more modest genius of Kris Allen that would have been left unappreciated in the shrillness of today’s popular culture. And, by gum, he’s CUTE!!!!

Some take-aways from the most entertaining, most competitive, most chock-full-of-talent American Idol ever…

KRIS ALLEN. It was a classic David and Goliath ending. I was hoping Kris would have gone through with lopping Adam’s head off and hoisting it up in triumph but, while it would make for good TV, it would be playing into the same ugly game Simon’s been operating all along; and Kris is much too valiant for that. In much the same vein, I regret that I haven’t been able to lure his wife close enough to a volcanic chasm for a little game of oops-she-fell-in. Damn my ethics!

ADAM LAMBERT. When he sings, I can feel the pain he suffers from carrying so much undeniable talent in his unworthy mortal shell. He has the most incredible voice that’s ever contributed to my eventual deafness.

DANNY GOKEY. If the producers have a specific ending to the story in mind, make sure you have what it takes to stick to the script. Mmrrmrmrrr… The groupies on the tour will be more than honored to help him allay the grief of coming in third. Oh…and of losing his wife in such a devastating, heartbreakingly poignant, sad, if however PR-centric, way.

ALLISON IRAHETA. It doesn’t matter how much talent and promise a girl has at such a young age; if she can’t translate her gifts into great hair and pretty dresses, she might as well keep her gig at the discount mall.

MATT GIRAUD. Judges’ Save, my foot. If they really wanted to bring someone back with a two-bit’s chance, they could have opted to bring in Ricky Braddy, Mishavonna Henson, or Alexis Grace. Matt G, you’re a nice guy, but we were never THAT into you…

ANOOP DESAI. Not to take away from his singing ability (albeit his performances were, for me, for you, a little second-rate here, a little Velveeta there), but without the lip gloss, he was nothing. Maybe he should’ve tried the faux-hawk…

LIL ROUNDS. For her part this season, Lil hands-down wins the 2009 Carly Smithson Award. An early favorite, she lost favor as the weeks of pressure to measure up to the hype eroded her self-confidence. She worked overtime to please the judges whose own fickle expectations contributed to her undoing.

SCOTT MacINTYRE. It was a nice gesture for American Idol viewers to elevate him to the Top 10; unfortunately, it was nothing more than that as there were more deserving singers left to spoil. Where’s the harm in honesty? There is no direct correlation between vocal talent and vision capability. Scott MacIntyre, if he were not blind, would not have made it through Top 36. In contrast, if we were blind, Nathaniel Marshall would.

MEGAN JOY. Personally, I liked her. Her vocals had a brassy whiskey-lounge quality; I even found the quirky twisty-dance charming. I also like cats that chase their tails and whine when I accidentally roll over them in my sleep.

MICHAEL SARVER. He benefited from the good ol’ boy mafia who couldn’t see the nothing-specialness past his aw-shucks persona to give Alexis Grace a fighting chance.

ALEXIS GRACE. She was disserved by the good ol’ boy mafia who couldn’t see the something-specialness past her awkward rendition of "Jolene" to spare us another week of Bouncing Ball Sarver.

JORGE NUNEZ. I was kinda fondue him.


RYAN SEACREST. Dance, little tanned monkey! Dance!

KARA DioGUARDI. She would be vestigial if she had ever been useful.

RANDY JACKSON. He would be vestigial if Kara had ever been useful.

PAULA ABDUL. More power to her for coming forward with her painkiller use (as many of us have long insinuated). I would elevate her standing if she could share said painkillers next year to help us through those excruciatingly delivered critiques.

SIMON COWELL. A friend of mine—let’s call him "Alfredo"—suggested to me at Happy Hour last Friday that the endgame would be a product of Simon’s brilliant form of reverse psychology. I smiled. I downed my cran and soda. I put a hand on his shoulder, and I said, "Thank you, Alfredo; thank you for your insight. Let me buy you another gin cocktail. Maybe eventually your logic will find its way back in the dark!"


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