
You know what I love? Super-funny April Fool’s jokes, that’s what. All that Rick-rolling? Hilarious. Seacrest announcing that the episode’s being preempted? Hilariouser. So many tricks coming from that man, a human joy-buzzer in shiny pants.
Tonight it’s just me and my pal Gary at my house watching the show. Everyone else we know is either off on some fancy vacation or working somewhere or sitting at home posting M4M “missed connection” notices on Craigslist. The husband/partner/whatever isn’t even home. He’s out at a movie. It’s like all my friends suddenly decided that watching the Idols misunderstand Dolly Parton wasn’t the most monumentally important thing a person could do with their Tuesday night.
Well, Gary and I know better. We’re also more excited about Kylie Minogue performing on Dancing With the Stars than anything going down on Idol. As soon as this is over we’re watching that. I can listen to the harshest, most extreme noise and doom-saturated metal for hours, but the second someone says, “Oh, hey, let’s put on Kylie,” I remember that I’m a gay. She’s my Achilles’ heel.
The show begins. Gary’s never seen them before. As the new opening credits man and opening credits lady give each other the eye, asking each other for reassurance that it’s OK to take that stage and soak up mass love, Gary says, “YOU IN? I’M IN! ARE YOU IN? CUZ I’M IN! WE’RE IN! OHGODYOURHANDFEELSSOGOODONMYMICROPHONE!”
I’m feeling somewhat let down by the celebrity audience members this season. They flash on the face of a blond woman. And I know her face. I’ve seen it. I should know who it is. And Gary says, “Who’s that famous lady? I know her.” And we replay the TiVo over and over, trying to sort out who she is. And we both draw blanks. But we recognize Michael Kors sitting right behind Randy and Paula. He’s here to give them all judge-y support, I guess. Maybe they’ll exchange judging style tips during commercials and Kors will say stuff like, “Oh, that second Beatles week! So down-market! Like somebody barfed all over John Lennon!”
The biggest star here tonight, though, is mentor Dolly Parton. Seacrest introduces the clip that explains Dolly to all the kids. The facts:
1. She’s super-old now.
2. She’s written 3,000 songs, which is a lot. Like one every day for 10 years. You take her, Carole King, Diane Warren, and those Beatles guys, and that accounts for about 87% of all music ever written.
3. She’s a bazillioguggleffffftrillionaire.
4. Enormous tits.
Dolly is seen prancing into the rehearsal room where all the kids are waiting. She’s wearing a dress made from very flexible aluminum. This “howdy, y’all” moment is cut together with a big-head-and-wig-combo interview bit where she talks about how since she’s never bothered to have actual flesh-and-blood sprogs of her own that it’s her songs that are her children. And she’s given birth 3,000 times. Occupying exactly one half of this shot is a bouquet of really stupid-looking flowers in a glass vase that someone decided would look really good tied with raffia bows. You kind of have to wonder if this is suddenly the actual April Fool’s joke and what we’re really watching is an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force and those flowers are about to begin shrieking profanity and shooting flames at Dolly’s fake hair. I don’t trust those flowers.
Cut back to her talking to the kids. She explains that on the set of 9 to 5 she was without her guitar (this seems like a lie) and that she wrote the song by clicking her acrylic nails together because they sounded like a typewriter. IT’S CUZ HER NAILS ARE SO FAKE AND WHOREY, Y’ALL! AIN’T THAT CUTER THAN A BANJO-PICKIN’ MONKEY RIDIN’ A PIG?
Then, maximizing her time so as not to miss a branding opportunity, Dolly leads them all in a chorus of “9 to 5,” which also happens to be the title of the new Broadway musical she’s written, coming soon to a high school drama club near you.
Time for some sangin’…
First up is Brooke. She gets a rehearsal moment with Dolly and dares to sing “Jolene” in front of the woman. That would take some nerve, really, especially when Dolly stands there with a half-smile stuck on her face, one that’s impossible to read because of all the extreme dermatology she’s imposed on herself. The most I can take away from Dolly’s description of Brooke as “warm” and “honest” is that Dolly simply likes Brooke’s hoop earrings because she, Dolly, is wearing some herself.
Then Brooke takes the stage and sings “Jolene.” And it makes me wonder what Brooke hears when she listens to Dolly’s original version. Have you heard it lately? Really listened to it? Because it’s a song about a tortured person begging to be spared from doom. It’s desperate and ghostly, intended to be delivered by a woman who knows what pain means. That’s why treating it like it’s a Sunday picnic sing-along-good-time-jam that you wink and grin your way through is, you know, totally fucking stupid and wrong. But you go and have a good time, Brooke.
Simon and Randy are into it, more or less. Simon says the violin player accompanying Brooke is “weird.” Paula says what I’m thinking, “You’re insulting. The. Band.” Then I go back and actually look at the violin player that I ignored because I was so busy focusing on Brooke’s awful performance. And Simon’s right. The guy has a mullet and looks weird. But he can fiddle. And that's all that matters. Score one for Paula. Then Paula and Brooke compliment each other’s hair. And they’re both right. They each have really good hair tonight.
David Cook is here to set the record straight about who he steals from. It’s a lot blah blah blah. It’s all been said. You pick nice arrangements, dude. We know. But this week he’s going to do his own arrangement of Dolly’s song “Little Sparrow.” Cut to Cook with Dolly. He sings, “Little Sparoooooooowwwwww!” It’s sharper than sharp. Gary and I invent thought bubbles to occupy the half of the screen not consumed by the woman’s wig:
1. “I’ve written 2,999 other songs I suddenly like more than this one, and that includes 'Straight Talk.’
2. “Get these evil, flame-throwing flowers away from me.”
3. “Sly Stallone in Rhinestone is a better singer than you.”
4. “Ow, my glass septum!”
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