American Idol 6: Top 4 Results

I'm having to do this on a slight tape delay tonight. Busy schedule...I'm sure you'll all understand. For some reason, my VCR (yes, I'm old school) decided to tape tonight's show in black and white, so I feel more like I'm watching the Ed Sullivan Show than American Idol.

I talked to Heather Cox today, and she's definitely going to appear at the Reality TV Convention this year. Should be a great time. I also called Will Makar, and I expect him to show up along with the president of the record label that signed both him and Ayla. Some other hopefuls...I've spoken with Ayla Brown, Sarah Mather, Rudy Cardenas, Nikki McKibbin, and several others, and many of them are interested. So far, only Constantine and Bucky Covington have outright turned it down. (Constantine doesn't do much Idol stuff anymore, and Bucky was already booked.) Not sure how many of the others will ultimately be able to make it, but we already have a great cast built up. I personally can't wait. I think it will be great fun.

Now, viva la results.

The final four are lined up in order of fashion, from most hideous to barely passable. THIS is American Idol.

In order to cram more into the show than was absolutely necessary, Pink is going to be here, just so we can be encouraged to fail to buy her album.

The judges have switched their seats, and Paula is in Simon's chair rubbing all up on herself. Ryan, ever the quick-witted one, says something about Paula's chi-chi's being smaller than Simon's. He immediately regrets it, when his brain catches up to his mouth and he realizes that the implication could swing badly the other way. Paula sort of ignores it, because she's botched boob jobs before anyway, so she goes on to spoil the surprise that Jessica Alba be in da house, yells at her about how hot she is, and Ryan remains on stage stumbling over his own lips trying like all heck to get the train back on the tracks.

Ryan asks Randy if he thinks it will be a shocker, and it most certainly will NOT, and he knows this, so that makes him even more disingenuous. Ryan repeats a joke from last season about how the show is all about Simon and how they should be thanking him for allowing them in his purview. As they respond to his inanity, Ryan sprints across the stage, takes a flying leap, and sails right over a shark that is swimming by.

I'll spare you the recap of last night's horrid mess. You all remember it.

Man-on-the-street time. A segment that should've been done away with in the first producer's meeting. It's amazing how many people are willing to make horse's behinds out of themselves dancing to "Stayin' Alive" on national television. Apparently there was a grandmother and soccer mom convention at the farmer's market this year. My new favorite word is now "goose bumples." And I'm with the kid, go Lakers!

Time to go buy your tickets for the American Idol Live tour. Somehow, it was necessary to show Ashley. I wonder if she will go on tour with them. I hope she does, because somehow a crying hormonal tweenager makes me feel like my life is a bit less complex than I thought it was. I've already got it figured out for myself which parts of the show I will spend at the concession stand and the bathroom line. Will I go this year? It's likely, because I'm sure they'll come through Memphis. I'll let you know how it all goes.

Pink is appearing tonight, for absolutely no reason at all, and they too will be the victim of a horrid mix. The drums are overpowering everything, and you can barely hear Pink's vocals or the guitar. The audio crew on this show really really deserve to be taken outside and beaten with shoestrings after the show. For two nights in a row, they've been off their game. There's a hint of frustration in Pink's eyes, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she ripped her earpieces out. She manages to keep it together. To be honest with you, if people complain about Nikki McKibbin and then say good things about Pink, I can't take them seriously. I don't care for her new stuff much at all.

Car-mercial! Who picks the songs for these? They've almost without fail been completely inappropriate. This time the Idols are profaning the Kinks' "You Really Got Me." I'm sorry, this isn't meant to be sung by a pop quartet. It's meant to be rocked out by a garage band.

Time for the American Idol Special Olympics...er, Challenge. Who went to Africa? You mean besides Carrie?

Ryan chats with the judges about song choices, and here we go with the group medley. I don't remember what it started out with, because I am sitting here flabbergasted at how unprofessional the sound engineering on this show really is. Melinda starts singing and there's...hmmm...no mic level! There is REALLY no excuse for this. It's not a dead battery on the mic, either. It's the sound guy who is asleep at the wheel for a whole verse while Melinda is having to be heard only through the ambient sound of the others' mics. Further into the group number, the sound guy overcorrects, and Melinda's mic is drowning everybody else out. On a production of this scale, that's absolutely inexcusable. The whole rest of the song just sounds jacked up, and the Idols struggle nervously through it. Someone is losing their job tonight.

Man, Bill Maher is looking old these days.

After the break, we'll find out who loses.

Ryan sits and talks with the remainder. There are the requisite questions about how the Idols are feeling about last night's performances. Ryan picks out Lakisha's uneasiness last night, and say what you want about last night, but I don't think she could look any more uneasy then than she does tonight. Melinda addresses her dad-blasted consistency, dang her eyes, and admits that she's got to do better than being the best, however one does that. Jordin frets about the little time she had with which to learn the song and outperform everybody last night. Blake, affecting a lisp for the first time this season, reveals that he, in fact, was the one who shot Lee Harvey Oswald. Or something.

There's a pimp spot for Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. They didn't get to see the whole film, mind you...just a clip. That begs the question: why not? Goodness sake, they got to watch Shrek, why not give them an hour and a half to enjoy the whole thing? I liked the first FF movie, but it was a bit under par from most Marvel movies. Judging by the trailer, this one should be a good bit better. Seeing Jessica Alba with blue eyes is just sort of weird, though. Dark Angel baby! She's a lot taller than I thought she was. This is a landmark for this season, though. Having the Human Torch on set assures us that now there has been someone in the Idol studios who went up in flames quicker than Chris Sligh or Brandon Rogers.

Man, is this over yet? There's only four of these people...why do we need an hour?? We learn a lot about the Idol's childhoods, which is all fun and games. There's nothing to really poke fun at. Lakisha says something about her "nappy fro" and Don Imus immediately starts dialing his lawyers. Gotta say it: Melinda was an odd-looking kid. She's cute now, but she definitely had her awkward age. Jordin looks the same as she did the day she emerged from the birth canal. Blake is, again, cooler than you.

Time for the results. Or not. Twenty minutes of commercials first. The cell phone commercial, yeah, that was funny the first time. Now that we've reached the millionth airing of it, it's time to switch ad campaigns.

Onstage, the final four are huddled. And they shall not separate. They aren't going to play Ryan's little game tonight, and with the script out the window, he panics for a split second. It's as though the teleprompter went out while he was telling a joke. The producers apparently whispered something very threatening into their earpieces, because they rapidly uncoil.

Jordin Sparks is the first to learn that she's safe. There's no big shock there.

Apparently, the Idol producers are looking to start a new show geared toward bands. An interesting concept, one that Half Past Forever should've waited for.

Now it's time to listen to Barry Gibb do.... do..... whatever that is he's doing. It ain't singin'. He's doing "You Don't Know What It's Like," and goodness gracious, someone get Michael Bolton out here to save this guy. It sounds more like an epileptic seizure than a solo. This is why there were other Bee Gees. I couldn't listen to this for any more than three minutes before stabbing my ear out with a pencil. I'm sorry, if I were one of the Idols, I'd have to corner him backstage and give him some pointers. My wife observes that, other than the possibility that those jeans of his are cutting off his circulation to his lungs, he might be singing in this fashion so that his dentures don't fly out and bite one of the judges. The audience cheers mightily, but then again, this audience would go bonkers if a dog were to walk up on stage and pee on the backdrop.

Time to drop one of the final three. Melinda is safe, and that leaves B-Shorty and Lakisha in the bottom two. And justly so. Randy won't venture a guess who will go home. Simon doesn't know, but he's willing to share a guess with us until Paula and Randy shout him down. He picks the KiKi. Paula showers them with rainbows, puppies, and flower petals.

Blake is safe. No shock. Almost all of us called this one all the way. LaKisha is going home, and unfortunately I fear we should get ready for all the LaKisha fans to scream racism. Well, that's the end of the run for Lakisha. It was quite a good run, and it should afford her some good opportunities in the future. I wish her the best of luck, despite some of the things I've said in the past, and I'll be following her career.

Next week, the top three... But don't stay away from the blog. Coming up this week, interviews with Jon Peter Lewis and Heather Cox. More news on the Reality TV Convention. And all the blabber that's fit for me to print.