
There’s only one thing left to say about Paula Abdul’s wriggly, frantic, desperate performance of her new “song” at the Super Bowl. And that’s that she didn’t stumble listlessly through it. She threw herself headlong and leglong into the burning ring of fire and left the stage standing up. Meanwhile, in another stadium filmed sometime late last summer, Seacrest is making me want to lay him out flat for continuing the abomination-combination of peaked-lapel blazer over hideous “graphic” T-shirt. I can’t read what the goth-lite lettering on the shirt says. And I don’t care. I just want someone to set fire to it. If he still happens to be wearing it when that happens, I can’t be held responsible.
I’m grateful that auditions are over after this week. I’m bone-tired of the put-underpants-on-your-head-and-sing-and-then-stand-there-while-Simon-says-something-mean-ha-ha formula. And I’ve watched all of the good singers they’ve deigned to put on camera and I have to say that none of them are Fantasia or Kelly, the only two former winners I’d ever consider paying to hear sing. I maintain that The Boogie needs his own variety show where he’s allowed to run amok, but otherwise, I got my two favorites. I say this aloud to friends who’ve joined me for watching and Xtreem Aaron (oh, and by the way, some new readers have been asking me where that name came from and the only answer I have is the one XA gave me himself: “Call me that from now on”) looks at me and says, “There will never be another Fantasia, Dave. Hey, put Life is Not a Fairy Tale: The Fantasia Barrino Story back in TiVo’s wish list so we can watch it again.”
So they’re in Atlanta. Some little kid says, “Welcome to Ee-lanta” and it’s cute and whatever. “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” plays behind Seacrest’s narration. I don’t need to spell that one out for you. Some gay throws his arms around while singing a snippet of “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going.” He gets five words out of his mouth before screeching, “WHAT!! I DON’T THINK THEY READY!!”
Seacrest is from Atlanta and his parents show up on camera. He gives his dad the bro-hug and his mom a kiss. I just read recently that Seacrest got the flu and still showed up on time for a photo shoot he had to be at. You have to wonder what sort of parents these people were and how they managed to instill the rocket-fuel-powered work ethic their candle-at-both-ends son lives on a daily basis. “You know, son, that paper route is fine, but shouldn’t you also be mowing lawns and cleaning pools and scooping ice cream at Baskin-Robbins and stocking Target from midnight to 6 in the morning before school?” And then when he’s done his father’s like, “Hmm. Not quite good enough yet.” He’s like Donna Summer in the “She Works Hard for the Money” video, going from job to job, mopping up after people. He probably sells Shaklee on the side and his friends dread seeing him coming their way, all, “Hey anybody low on Basic-G?” The host and his folks playfully goof on the auditioning guy who’s wearing the spinning rim as a necklace. It’s important to do things together as a family.
Oh, and on Wednesday night they weren’t anywhere. The episode was a collection of some of the best and some of the worst from all over, so I’m just going to throw them all in here in a big pile.
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