American Idol Recap: Now With 15% More Gay!!!

March 14, 2007 at 12:17 pm | Posted in Idol, Muzak, TV | 2 Comments

Last week, conservative pundit Ann Coulter landed in a heap o’ trouble by calling John Edwards a “faggot.”  I can’t imagine defending Coulter for anything, and this case is no exception.  “Faggot” may not be The N Word, but it’s scathing and hateful enough to be retired from our everyday lexicon.  I will not miss it.


However, I am not so willing to part with “gay.”  As in, “That is so gay, dude.”

Using “gay” in that context is widely considered inappropriate and offensive–at least within the elite cultural and intellecutal circles that I frequent.  But what other word will be at your disposal this evening, when the American Idol contestants do their little Disneyish group performance to start the show?  Or last night, what was it when Brandon Rogers pranced around singing “You Can’t Hurry Love”?  It was gay, that’s what it was!  Totally friggin’ gay!

I don’t mean gay in the homosexual way.  And I don’t even mean it in an effeminate way.  I just mean it in the gay way, and that’s the problem.  There’s no other word to describe it.  Or to replace it.  So unless someone gives me a different word that adequately conveys what “gay”, when used properly, conveys…I don’t know how I can possibly stop using it. 

It’s not like there’s no precedent here.  Gay didn’t always have a strictly homosexual connotation.  There was a time when it meant happy and gleeful.  Festive.  And I think my use of gay might be closer to that definition than to the homosexual definition.  Is that an inadequate justification?  Am I wrong?  Am I a bigot?  Can anyone say what form should be the exclusive form of the word?

Would fruity be better?  How about camp?  “Idol is totally camp, man!”  That doesn’t really work, especially since mostly gay people use the word camp.  The average dumb straight person wouldn’t know what the hell you’re talking about.  And more importantly, Idol is not camp.  Nor is it fruity.  It’s just gay, man.  Gay!

I may be wrong about all of this.  If someone can convince me that I shouldn’t use “gay,” I’ll stop using it.  I am nothing if not open-minded.  And it’s usually only an issue on Tuesdays and Wednesdays anyway. 

But moving onto the actual show, you can find a rundown of last night’s episode, the first on the big stage with the Final Twelve, after the jump.

The featured artist was Diana Ross, who shared many words of wisdom.  She told the first performer, Brandon Rogers, to “Go back to your center.  Your heart place.”  (She may have said “hard place”; it was unclear.)  Performing “Can’t Hurry Love,” Rogers went to the heart place with a majestic gayness that wowed David Boreanz and his Bones co-stars sitting in the audience.  Randy was not wowed, saying the performance blew, with the exception of “the last two notes of the songs.”  That’s a poor percentage.

Next to perform was Melinda Doolittle, who resembles a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.  Diana Ross is quite certain that, “Whether she wins or not, (Doolittle) will continue to persevere.”  Perseverence is important when you don’t have a neck.  You can’t put your neck on the line.  Or stick your neck out there.  You can only persevere.  And Doolittle perseveres.  She sang a song called “Home” that reduced Paula to tears.  Paula was beyond wasted, and I loved it. 


Ross was skeptical about Chris Sligh‘s contemporary interpretation of “Endless Love.”  You could tell she did not like the idea of him tinkering with her chords, and she was right.  It was bad, and Sligh was portly.  Only black chicks and black dudes can win Idol while being fat.  Mark it down.  There will never be a fat, white American Idol.  Including this tool.  During Sligh’s performance, I wrote “sounds like Coldplay” in my notes.  And wouldn’t you know Randy Jackson then said the exact same thing?  Me and the Dawg was on point last night.  We were vibin’!  Yee-uh, yee-uh, yee-uh!  Good lookin’ out!

Ross told Gina Glockson that she had to “pronunciate,” which is difficult for Glockson because she’s got one of those barbell rings in her tongue.  When you’re a rocker, barbell rings are more valuable than “pronunciating.”  And Glockson is a rocker.  If you don’t believe me, believe that red streak in her hair.  There’s no denying it.  And now her boyfriend has a streak of red hair.  And her mother has a streak of red hair.  They’re rockers too!

Sanjaya performed next.  Sanjaya Malakar.  I have nothing but praise for Sanjaya.  He is the greatest Idol contestant since that redhead howdy-doody looking crooner from the Fantasia season.  And Diana Ross knows it.  “There’s some winning ingrediant in his spirit, and it’s not his hair.”  Oh, it may not be his hair, Diana, but it’s not not his hair.  The hair is part of the whole package.  It’s all that is Sanjaya.  Sanjaya, Sanjaya, Sanjaya.  Let the name roll off your tongue.  Drink him up like a venti caramel macchiato.  Give me the runs, Sanjaya.  Yum.  Make me weep.  Make me moan.  1-866-IDOLS-05.  I got it.  I’m on it.  Speed dial.  Ain’t no mountain high enough.  I love it.

A braless Haley Scarnato sang “Missing You” next, and then appeared to have a nervous breakdown.  Pull yourself together, Haley!  Listen to Diana!  “It’s good to have thoughts behind the songs,” she told you.  Listen!  Have some thoughts!  And fix your belt and skirt, they’re all bunched up.  You look like you did a poopie in your pants.  Haley was sad because she forgot her lyrics and she had a bigger space between her knockers than the canyon between LaKisha’s front teeth.  (That was a long way to go for that joke, I know.  Thanks for reading to the end.)  Paula told Haley not to worry when she forgets her lyrics.  The audience doesn’t notice, she said.  “They don’t know anything.”  Yeah, that’s right Paula!  We don’t know anything!  Give me more pretty colors, TV happy machine.  Must drink Coca-Cola…Must drink Coca-Cola…Must drink Coca-Cola…

At this point, there were performances by Phil Stacey, LaKisha Jones, Blake Lewis, Stephanie Edwards, Chris Richardson, and Jordan Sparks.  Stacey was bald, LaKisha rocked as always, Blake was annoying as always, Stephanie was lifeless as always, Chris was hyper-gay, and Jordan did that stupid thing where she stands next to Ryan and crouches down so they’re the same height.  We get it, Jordan.  You’re tall.  He’s short.  Enough.


I can’t tell you much more about those performances because my wife got on her cell phone and talked through the entire second half of the show.  ‘Cus ya know.  Those cell phones are tough to move around with and all.  I mean, I could’ve had my neighbor come over to help move the TV into a different room.  But hey, no big deal.  It’s only American Idol.  Only the most important hour in my week.  No biggie.  We only have 19 rooms in our apartment where you could talk.  Rooms that aren’t showing American Idol.  You keep chatting right there on the couch though.  Right through Blake Blakinizing “You Keep Me Hanging On.”  Right through LaKisha bringing down the house.  I’ve got the rest of my life to see that.  And I’d already seen Sanjaya anyway.  Sweet, Sweet Sanjaya.  Sweet, Sweet Sanjaya.

PREDICTION FOR TONIGHT’S ELIMINATION SHOW:  Brandon Rogers is sent to the Inferno to battle C.T., and Paula quietly farts during a commercial, hoping Simon and Randy will be too caught up in the moment to notice.



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  1. Good thing your wife is a hot ticket, otherwise she could be in for some serious competition with Sanjaya. Jerk.

  2. […] no longer holds the place it once did in my life.  MJ has been replaced by Sanjay.  And filling out the NCAA Tourney brackets no longer provides much of a thrill.  In fact, I […]

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