Mea culpa: Yi. I typed this entire post - then accidentally closed the Mozilla Firefox window and lost everything. Let this be a lesson to every blogger out there: compose in Word. For real.
American Idol winner Kris Allen practices his "Who, me?" showbiz face.
Photos by Ray Mickshaw/ Fox
Let's not belabor this: Kris Allen won.
It is not, in fact, gay folks' time. I'm not especially surprised, but I am disappointed. What can you do, though? Adam Lambert will drop an amazing album someday. Kris will drop a lame album that will clutter used bins and flea markets in five years' time. You know I'm right.
So much happened Wednesday that the usual, exhaustive rundown of quips doesn't begin to do it justice, and I'm literally falling asleep in front of my screen. So I'm just going to randomly scan my notes and highlight a few things in Uzi style. Like, this was sort of an American Idol
high school reunion, with Bo Bice and Reuben showing up in the audience, right? And David Cook's single about his brother was really touching, and I hope you downloaded it from iTunes - the proceeds go to a cancer-cure charity.
And that Black Eyed Peas song was tight! They had the most amazing backup dancers ever, seriously.
Calling Dr. Love: The countdown toward Adam Lambert's Daughtry-like success has begun.
Hey, remember last year's Idol
finale, when Mike Myers showed up in oppresively unfunny The Love Guru
drag? That was great, right? I didn't need any more Bikini Girl or Norman Gentle or Tatiana Del Toro in my life - and neither did you - but we got 'em anyway, plus Tara's bare midriff.
Mikalah Gordon: still useless and risible. Randy's "for me" montage underscored how useless Mssr. Dawg Pound really is. The big-name duets were great sometimes and made the whole thing worth sitting through (Adam with KISS - holy shit; Allison Iraheta and Cyndi Lauper pulling off a transcendent "Time After Time") and weak sometimes (Lil Rounds and Queen Latifah, Kris and Keith Urban).
Really, it was all a huge, long mess, and I'm really glad it's over and done - and while I'm sorry that what I've given you here is a severely abridged version of what I had down in the first place, let's face it: we're all ready to not think about Idol
for a while.
Beat - OUT!
So that's it for Idol Beat. This entry marks Idol Beat post No. 32, which means the number of years I've been alive equals the numer of times I've typed up Idol Beat recaps - which isn't really saying anything.
This experience has been a lot of fun, if stressful, straining, and utterly exasperating at times. Idol Beat was my first-ever television blogging gig, and it probably showed; less the pre-Idol Beat freedom to skip a performance or even an entire episode, keeping up with a twice-per-week reality TV show and trying to write about it in an amusing-yet-cogent way becomes a grind over time.
Eventually, it can be difficult to care who's accomplishing what on any given night or to remember that Idol isn't just a cynical, smoke-and-mirrors grab for advertising cash. What it is, most of the time, is something bigger than that: an inspirational demonstration that with pluck, talent and a little behind-the-scenes deus ex machina, anybody can become at least semi-famous - a band-geek lookin' guy (Clay Aiken), a single mother with a Donald Duck voice (Fantasia), a delusional freakshow (Keith Beukelaer) or even the "You Are My Brother" dude, who deserves an honorary spot in the American Idol Hall of Fame.
Thanks to Chris Gray and his superiors for giving me this opportunity - hopefully I didn't blow it too much - and for everybody who read Idol Beat and/or chimed in with kudos, criticisms, or outright slander. It's been real. I don't know whether I'll be back next January for another go at what often turned into the Texas Bucky Covington Appreciation Society, but I'll never forget this.
This week, what say you outro Idol Beat with your favorite Covington quotes - or Sanjaya book excerpts, or Paula Abdul manglings, or Idol ephemera whatever?
A la Jay-Z on "Party Life," "I'm gonna just let this ride out..."
|Well, Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse Me: Anyone else wondering what Steve Martin was doing there?|