Recap: American Idol Finale: The Final Squeeeeze!

I sit in up in my bed with two fresh packs of Marlboros, a bottle of Stoli, and a six pack of Diet Coke. OK, fine. And a catron of ice cream, a bag of pretzels, and a box of pizza. It’s a special occasion! Mary Jane even promised to swing by to complete the BFF circle for the big night. Judge me later, this ain’t fat camp. THIS. Is American Idol, the END!

Tink announces Jordin and Blake and Spanx smiles like he just said she won.

Calm down, Julia Roberts, we’ve still got two hours to go. The end is here, and the back up dancers are dressed to blow the winner. Glad to see you workin’ it girls, but ddddamn.

The audience is packed with stahhhhhs! Teri Hatchet Face is there with a little girl who looks like she’s afraid. Very afraid.

Tink introduces the Judges and Paula gives him the loser sign. Uh, I agree, but aren’t you the one who tripped on a dog yesterday? Tink points out that Simon already looks bored and he answers “It’s because I’m listening to you!” with no trace of sarcasm. Come on guys, it’s the end. Let’s all hug.

First up is a Spanx/Blake duet. “I Saw Her Standing There”. “She was just seventeen! If you know what I mean!” No, I don’t know what you mean. Who’s 17? Nigel is completely unashamed at this point to admit that this show is RIGGED. The opening duet is an ode to Spanx? Grodie. They both sound good and have a good time, but poor Blake is basically her backup boy. I know I have given Wiggy a lot of crap, but I find myself praying that he wins.

Gwen shows up. Wait. No she doesn’t. Tink announces her Via Satellite. What the hell, Gwen? There are eight billion people watching tonight. Get your ass here! What are you afraid of? The fashion police have no jurisdiction over the Kodak Theater.

She sings what she calls her favorite song off her new album. Yikes and thanks. You just saved me fifteen bucks. FF.

Kelly Clarkson is back! HOLLA! She has been kinda makin an ass out of herself in public lately because her voice is so ragged from this Idol Death Metal crap she’s been peddling. I have been against the “hard-ish rock” thing, but I instantly change my mind when the first line of her new song is “I hope the ring you gave to her turns her finger green”. LOL, Kel. I will love this woman 4EVR! She kicks ass tonight. She sounds like she has some severe vocal nodes, but that she can belt in three octaves despite them is killer. Watch and learn, Spanx.

Now it’s time for the Second Annual Golden Idols! For the second year, Nigel wasn’t happy enough exploiting the losers and misguided crazies that showed up to the cattle call the first time. He’s picked the most extreme and decided to rag on them again. No matter how shitty this show gets, they deliver on the evil. LOVE it. The first award is for Best Presentation. That means even though they couldn’t sing for shit, these contestants talked the best talk and walked the best walk.

Remember X-Centric? He’s they guy who growled like a tiger and did karate claw moves. “When I was fourteen, fifteen, I was a little kitty cat, but now I’m a full grown panther.” He goes on to tell us that he’s auditioning because he’s the most exciting entertainer on Earth. Sure, this seemed ridiculous, but after watching this season, can anyone really argue with him? He kicked, he Elvised, he took off his shirt. He’s like a young, ghetto Taylor Hicks.

The next nominee is Isadora Furman. Doesn’t ring a bell? She’s the girl who said she was a cross between Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, and Led Zepplin, but when it was her turn to sing, she squealed out opera and did the Blake record scratch. Simon gives her a blank, horrified stare, but you know he was thinking “is this terrible or is it hipandcoolhipandcoolhipandcool?”

Margaret Fowler was the large gap toothed black woman. No, not LaKisha. She wasn’t eligible for this award. I remember Margaret because for all her Tweety Bird craziness, I actually had a burning hope for her to be able to sing her ass off and make it to Hollywood. But, as you know by now, I don’t know how to pick a winner. In all fairness to me, who woulda thunk that this chick couldn’t sing?

Robbed

Margaret wins and she’s there to accept her award in the same horrible outfit. We get the added bonus of a giant blond wig!! Hoorah! A winner I can get behind! It takes Nigel and a bodyguard to get her huge, wobbly ass up the steps to the stage, but she gets there. And when she does, she grabs Tink and mouth rapes him to the ground. I stood and cheered so loud the baby downstairs started crying. Shut up, you fucking baby! This is MY time!

Margaret thanks her legions of fans as her cell phone rings. I thought it was a bit, but nope. She seriously left her cell on during the show. I am glad to know someone’s there to call her. It’s not easy bein’ green. She looks like Urkel grew up, ate the rest of the “Family Matters” cast, and found a new catch phrase. “Yayuh!”

But wait! There’s more! She wrote a poem, and it’s a doozy. She dedicates it to the love of her life, Simon. Aw!

“American Idol is a whip,
That surely can make one bliss,
For all it’s worth,
It has it’s place,
For LaTisha, Melinda, Jordin,
And me too!
We’ll take the hearts of those who want to exist.
Yayuh!”

It may have not made much sense at first, but when she got to the line “We’ll take the hearts of those who want to exist,” I had to admit that she was onto something. Something deep. Margaret Fowler, this is your now. Tink says he gave her Simon’s number. Ha!

David Thomas of Take 6 took time out of his busy schedule to arrange a medley for the Top 6 boys. One more 6, and this will all make sense. Take 6 is an a cappella group, so naturally David put together an a cappella arrangement. That would have been a great idea if more than two of these guys could sing on pitch. They start in six part disharmony and the baby cries again. I hit the floor with a broom, but the screaming is actually kind of a nice sound compared to the yokels on my TV. Towards the end they get on the ball and it becomes a falsetto off. Sligh wins.

They introduce Smokey Robinson! Wow! He didn’t even appear on Days of Our Lives this week to plug his appearance! Smokey’s had some plastic surgery, but not enough.

The camera cuts to the giant teleprompter. Smokey. Dude. You still don’t know the words to “Bein’ With You?”. My brain’s telling me it’s cuz he’s old, but my eyes are telling me that he’s a teenager. That Smokey. Still makin’ the ladies swoon. Well, at least this one.

His voice has held up really nicely, and his song sounds real perty til the boys join in with their 6 pitches of the same note. There’s the third 6! Book closed. Dammit! Back open. “Tears of a Clown”! Love this song. The boys sing half a solo line each, and it sounds like they’re in group audition. Work that half a line! Powder riffed more in three words than anyone else in the entire medley. When it came time to pull out the dance moves, the camera cut to Blake at the head of the line, blocking every one else. Poor guys! You know Sligh breathed, slept and ate (a LOT of) that choreography this week, and we didn’t get to see him nail it. Oh! I didn’t mention Sanjy! She WORKED it.

Smokey, being unable to close his eyes, looks like a wide eyed kid. If he got killed in a car crash on the way home tonight, he would die a happy, happy man. Cute.

Since a lot of people complained (I admit it. It was me) that Blake didn’t “get to” beat box in last night’s “This is My Now”, he will be joined by Doug E. Fresh to do it right. Hey, wait, this is a random Inspector Gadget holla. What the hell? I want to hear “This is My Now! My N-n-n-n-n-Now!” Jipped! The song is fun and retro, and I had a flashback to acid wash jeans, feathered hair, and ice cream. Wait. The ice cream is from the present. Chubby Hubby is my now, alright? Mr. Beatbox shakes things up. He doesn’t only make drum snares and record scratching sounds, he’s also mastered fingers tapping on a desk, the sound of a Diet Coke can being tossed out of the window on a freeway, and even Starvin’ Marvin’s clicking language on South Park.

The number is ridiculous, cheesy and fun, and I think if Blake had pulled this performance off last night, he would have won this things hands down. The audience goes crazy, and some little girls hold up either the deepest or the dumbest signs we have seen yet.

Tink says this is nothing like the Justin and Kelly days. You can say that again. Jordin and Blake are true originals! If you say so. Back to the Golden Idols! The next award is for Most Original Vocal Performance. The nominees are the Concentrator, who does an excellent impression of Spanx Face…

Tic-Tac?

Sandy Chavez, …wait! That’s mean! This was the girl who sang like a bad impression of a deaf chick. She was severely damaged by being told she was horrible. I almost cried as I watched her face fall when Simon bursted her sick, twisted bubble. Aw! Sandy! Hug me!

…or Sholandrick Stallworth, who should win for being named Sholandrik Stallworth. This is the guy who thought he looked like Julio Iglesias.

Sholandrik wins! He is disappointed that his name’s not on his statue cuz he’s never had anything with his name on it. Aw, Sholandrik! Your name’s on American Idol! And your electricity bill. Perk up! To prove he can sing louder than anyone named Sholandrick EVER, Tink lets him stand on the front of the stage without a mic and belt one out. Randy requests Silent Night. It’s official. Sholandrik’s loud. Very, very loud. He flubs the words, but it’s Randy’s fault for choosing something so hard.

Then Sylar rises up from the audience, cuts Sholandrik’s skull off, and steals his stunning talent. Damn you Sylar! You can sing now, too?

Next, the top 6 girls come out to sing a funky back beat version of “I Heard it Through the Grapevine” and I am angry all over again. Poor Stephanie Edwards! The difference in talent between the top 6 girls and the top 6 boys is pretty astounding, but they aren’t even finished with the first section of their medley and I forgot what they were singing. Yawn.

Gladys Night comes down center and wheezes out some tune about hearing a song in her heart again. Well, sing that one then, Gladys, cuz this one sucks. Ooh! Midnight Train to Georgia! Gladys may be a little out of breath from, well, swaying, but she can still bring it. Damn, girl. Doolittle and LaKisha tear it up with her and prove why this finale’s a sham.

What’s an AI finale without Justin Guarini yappin’ during the show?

While Tink announces the next guest from the audience, Constantine turns around and eye fucks me as hard as he can. ARGH. Why is he ALWAYS HERE!?!? Go out into the world! Mingle!

After being threatened with a lawsuit if he forced Nigel to call in Buble to replace him again, Tony Bennet’s in the house! While he slogs his way through “For Once in My Life”, Paula sways back and forth and, even though she obviously doesn’t know them, mouths the words along with him. Who do you think you are, Oprah? Tony does a great wobbly job with the song. Jerry Springer loved it!

J Hud’s in the audience wearing prescriptionless glasses. Come on, now Effie. Don’t front. You got an Oscar! You don’t have to look smart, too.

The next Golden Idol is for Best Buddies. Will it be…

or

Antonella and Amanda did the almost impossible and embarrassed New Jersey, and Tink and Simon did a great job of embarrassing themselves this year. But Bruce Vilanch’s nephew and the Bush Baby didn’t embarrass anyone. They made their people proud. When they left that audition, Bruce’s nephew said “Some days are good vocal days, and some aren’t”, and Bush Baby said “Screw you, Simon! I don’t look like a monkey!” Victory or not, this slice of life is forever burned into my memory.

Tink wishes Simon luck cuz he hasn’t won an Emmy or an Idol yet. Ouch. Finally, a good zinger from the fairy. Bush Baby and BV’s nephew win! Bush Baby, the only one of the two to change his clothes since last year, tells Tink about he and his friend’s journey along the path of fame. Since AI, they’ve “done” Kimmel, the Grammy’s red carpet, the AI red carpet, the Daytime Emmy’s red carpet, a Kroeger Grocery Store opening, an Italian street festival, a Garage Sale, a Swim Meet, a Pride Rally, a cattle auction, a hot dog eating contest, a Justin Guarini CD signing…the list goes on and on. Tink asks the little one how he felt when Simon called him a Bush Baby and he answers “At first I was hurt, and wondered how someone could say that, but Simon, if you didn’t say those things to me, I wouldn’t be where I am. I forgive you, Simon!” AWWW! Simon smiles and says thank you. Somewhere out there, Corky just squeezed out a tear.

BB adds the line he practiced all day: “Lighten up, Simon! I have!” Simon didn’t hear him and Paula grits her teeth and mutters “I don’t know” like please, just humor him and let’s get on with it. RUDE. Oh, wait. It gets worse. Tink points the boys’ attention to the screen and this pic comes up.

Still not offended? Nigel has sponsored BB’s own Bush Baby at the Milwaukee Zoo named Simon. Holy shit, Tink’s lucky Rosie quit the View. She would have 800 severely pissed off lesbians and fat housewives down here ripping that fairy limb from limb in a snap.

And now, first she sang backup for them, and now she’s singing with them! Doolittle and BB and CC Winans! (?) A fight for power within a gospel number ensues. CC is not having Doolittle one bit. Every time she riffs, CC echoes her and the two women sing louder than Sholandrik. Calm down, girls. You’re singing for Jesus. Just to make the whole thing more awkward, Paula stands up and rocks out, just to show she can clunk her QVC line to the Lord’s music too. SIT DOWN. You’re making God mad.

The final Ford commercial of the year is a clip montage of the contestants getting wacky behind the scenes of all the shoots. The best part was watching the 273rd take of Sanjy trying and failing to catch the briefcase.

Tink hands Blake and Jordin the keys to their BRAND NEW FORD MUSTANGS! Crickets.

Carrie Underwood is back! She’s singing the same song she sang for Idol Gives back, but this time without all the flies and pesky poor kids. She, as usual, looks beautiful, even though I kind of resent the fact that she got so thin. Her outfit is odd and pretty, and she’s wearing enough mosquito netting to save an entire African village from malaria. Don’t worry, Carrie. You’re home now, and the Kodak theatre sprayed before you got there.

She sings the crap out of the song, and I get a little teary eyed. You’re right, Carrie! I am ashamed to cry! As she sings “Nothing you confess, Can make me love you less,” I start confessing all my past sins and crying my guts out. The baby downstairs cries again and I put my head to the floor so we can sob together. Life sucks, little baby. Go Underwood!

Clive Davis is still alive! He comes out to give us an “American Idol Report Card”. I thought he was gonna apologize for this season, but he does even better and admits Taylor Hicks and McYellowPheever suck it and the true star of last season was Chris Daughtry. Then he awards Carrie with a ginormous tacky plaque for selling eighteen billion albums in the US alone. What the hell is she gonna do with that thing? I hope she has a huge garage. She thanks everyone at AI for handing her the world on a platter and then starts giving out her phone number to interested single men with a job. Clive tries to drag her offstage, but he’s too weak. Seriously, someone date Underwood! She’ll protect you from malaria.

The African Children’s Choir is back, and they swarm the stage, dance their little butts off, and steal the show. If any contestant from this year had even a sliver of the charisma that these kis have, Clive Davis’ speech would be thirty pages long next finale. You want someone to produce you a killer, inspiring idol song? Give these kids a sack of grain and some shiny material, and you’ll have yourself a number one.

AND NOW! Time to honor the person who has stood up to adversity! Opened our minds and challenged our senses! And through it all, been an easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl. JFK? Nooo! Martin Luther King? Noooo (but him too)! Sanjaya Malakar? Noooo! Betsy Wetsy from LuLu Night!

In just the month and a half or so this little girl has been an American Icon, she’s fired her mother, become a crack ho, and retired from the Price is Right. America! What have we done?

Sanjy was pretty awesome too. He was a different gal every week and they all rocked. There should be a show about all the different Sanjys living in one house. They could comb each other’s hair and have pillow fights.

He’s back tonight to perform with Joe Perry from Aerosmith! BEAUTIFUL!

He sings “You Really Got Me Going” again, and this time he’s got more gravel in his voice and a wind machine. Jel-Lo’s not the only diva in this house, bitches! He jumpsaround the stage and growls it out, but he sounds like he has strep throat by the middle. Who cares? He screams it out like his life depends on it while Joe Perry helps nail it down.

And who’s that in the Freak Pen? Betsy Wetsy’s back! And she’s crying!

To wipe the taste of faux rock out of our mouth, Green Day shows up to save the day. They sing John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero” to raise aid money for Darfur. People are dying horrible deaths there for no reason. Thanks, Green Day! I’m totally gonna be the solution! Where’s Darfour? I’ll send them the pizza crust I didn’t eat tonight (what? I’m on a diet).

It’s been a fun year of making fun of Taylor Hicks, hasn’t it? The guy had a record amount of votes and then sold 4 albums. Build em up, tear em down. It’s just how we are, Taylor! Don’t take it personally! He rips the stage up tonight, and I remember why he was a believable option last year. Sure, he twitches and looks like my PawPaw when he went through his middle aged crisis, but he gives it every bit of soul and feeling he has, sings (mostly) on pitch, dances and even plays the harmonica! Not to mention, he’s gotta great sense of humor about his failed Idoldom. He chose to sing “Heaven Knows (I Tried)” off his new album. LOL, Hicks. I like him now. As he finishes, he screams “Soul Patrol!” and jumps around like a monkey. Ugh. Get off my TV, you wack hack.

Next up, Jordin’s up to sing “You’re All I Need to Get By” with Ruuuuuuben Studdard! Way to combat all that press about being fat. Put her next to the largest person within a three block radius. It’s like how I only feel thin in Texas.

They do a decent job with it but I’m getting anxious for the end. We’ve seen Sanjy and Taylor Hicks. What could possibly top that in the suck department? Oh no. I’m going to gay Hell, but Bette Midler came out in a leather mini skirt to warble out “Wind Beneath My Wings” and put the suck cherry on the ass sundae. It’s mean to make fun of her because A. I’m a big homo and she’s like our Virgin Mary, and B. She’s like 10900 years old. Plastic surgery has kept her at the same level of not quite hideous that she’s been for the past 35 or so years, but there’s no surgery that keeps your voice at not quite hideous. She sounds like she smoked a pack of cigarettes in the limo and is hanging on to dear life. Thank God she still has that personality though. She swishes, sways, and waves to the balcony like she never intended this song to be about her best friend dying of cancer and being forced to raise the bitches brat. Love you, Bette!

Now it’s time to pick our favorite Idol ever! Kelly’s up first with “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and DAMN, girl. Again, she nails it. Taylor Hicks is next and I try to listen, but this is all I hear.

Carrie follows him, clearly bored (or maybe exhausted from having to carry around the ginormous plaque backstage) and the camera man can’t keep from trying to get up her skirt. The good girls always bring the pervs.

Since Ruben was too exhausted from his last three minute song, J-Hud takes off her glasses and saves the day.

Then all of this year’s runners up join the Idols to sing “I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends.” Nigel hasn’t given them dick to do this finale. Remind me to send him a Thank You letter. Glocksen gets the line “End me your ears and I’ll sing you a song, and I’ll try not to sing out of key.” And then she chokes on her last note.

At the end of the medley, the contestants past and present line the stage and teach Nigel a lesson about Market Over-Saturation.

And now it’s time to find out who won! Shockingly, it’s Spanx! Way to go, kid. You’ve made me crazy and pretty much destroyed the screen of my TV, but you worked your butt off…well, you worked hard, and you deserve it. I guess. Kinda. How old are you?

As she starts to sing the first lines of the crap fest of a song we will be ear mauled with for the next year, she’s wobbly from almost crying real tears. She takes a few deep breaths and does a nice (kinda sucky) job. Ok, I squeezed a couple out, but I’m built like that. I am shocked that as much bile as I’ve spat out about this season I can be manipulated into feeling something. Damn you, American Idol! Still, I can’t help hoping that the fireworks going off right behind Spanx catch her skirt and set her on fire.

Dear Readers, Thank you for keepin’ me around! I have appreciated all the love and all the venom we’ve shared and you’ve made this a really rewarding season for me. Thanks and LOVE.

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