American Idol: Semi-Finals.2: Results!

The second round of Semi-Finals struck last night like a bad case of the croup. We had a tone-deaf Never-Seen, a wannabe poseur-rocker, a dirty panhandler, and some sweaty old dude. And that just covers the judges. Tonight, another nine contestants go home. Three will stay. If I don’t already hate them, just give me a couple of weeks. Malice is best when left to simmer. This is American Idol. Nobody drink the beer! The beer has gone bad!

Group Sing. Tonight’s cover song is Ne-Yo’s “Closer,” which might make you go “huh?” but trust me, if you heard the chorus, you’d recognize it. Adam ‘Bullshit’ Lambert makes “fuck me” eyes at the camera. Not since Constantine Maroulis has a contestant made me feel so unclean. I summon a hazmat crew to sterilize my TV because he is that repulsive. Adam shares the pimp-spot lead-in with Matt Giraud. Meanwhile, the sweaty bald guy sings with Kai-whoever, with the sick mother. These guys look older than me, and I’m pretty old. I not only remember the 1970s, I was in them. Nick Mitchell, in human mode, and Hot Kris are paired. As Kris does the white boy shuffle, I wonder what his price would be, exactly, to come to my house and do that shuffle, sans pants. Megan Corkrey looks like a million bucks with her red jeans and tattoo arm. That Jeanine girl seems to have extended her legs since last night. Does she even own long pants? Mishavanna Goobie-globba is trying way too hard, to the point where she’s damn near Mouseketeer-ish in her delivery. The other girls…exist. As a group, this batch sounds more cohesive than last week’s, but isn’t that the nature of invisible chorus singers? To all blend into one big background voice?

Elimination time…

Allison Iraheta is called down. She is 16 and has maroon-colored hair. She was barely seen or heard before last night, but amazed everybody by singing an awful song by that awful Heart.

Jesse Langseth is summoned. She is a single mom and looks vampire-y. Last night, she put her brain on “shuffle” and sang “Bette Davis Eyes.”

Matt Breitzke comes over. He’s the welder family-man. He sang a Tonic song nobody heard before and the judges didn’t appreciate it.

Allison stays. Jesse and Matt B. are going home. Okay, that was a given.

Kris Allen and Megan Corkrey are called down.

Megan was all retro and quirky, dancing with an adorable awkwardness that made her immediately endearing. Well, it did to me.

Kris sang some Michael Jackson, dancing with an adorable awkwardness that made him immediately hot. Well, it did to me.

Next, Matt Giraud and Jeanine Vailes come down to Seacrest. He’s very short, so that’s like, way down.

Matt G. was the dueling pianist who sang Coldplay and reminded me of Marshall off How I Met Your Mother. The judges didn’t like him because they just wanted to hear the Designing Women theme again.

Jeanine was all legs and lips as she made a misguided attempt to perform Maroon 5’s “This Love.” The best Paula could say was that Jeanine is pretty and it’s Season 8.

Ryan says that of the four on stage, only one will remain in the competition.

Jeanine is quickly dispatched, because nobody associated with or watching the show thinks there can be any sort of suspense where she’s concerned.

Kris, Megan, and Matt G. are still standing.

Then Matt G. gets the kibosh.

That leaves Kris and Megan. This can go either way. She’s quirky and likable. He’s cute and tasty.

Cute and tasty wins the day. Megan is leaving. Kris is staying.

Filler. Brooke White, an Idol almuna from last season, is here to perform her new single, “Hold Up My Heart.” It’s not bad. Nothing I’d buy, but easy to listen to with my ears. And Brooke is a sweety. Thankfully, she doesn’t stop singing and start again, like she did that time, scandalizing the free world. But it would have been funny to see her do it just for a laugh. Nothing beats impromptu hijinks on live TV.

The remaining contestants are called forth as one fat tumor of humanity: Mishavanna Hannah Montana, Bad-Hair Kai, Nick Mitchell, Bullshit Lambert, and Jasmine Murray, who fucked her shit up royally last night.

Mishavanna sang “Drops of Jupiter” and, like, whatever. Nobody cared. And that song is crap.

Kai sang some old song because he only listens to whatever records his mom has in the house. He will forever need a haircut.

Jasmine sang Sarah Bareilles’ “Love Song,” and somehow managed to take the weeks and weeks of play she got on this show, roll it into a tight little ball, incinerate it, and flush the ashes down the toilet.

Mishovanna, Kai, and Jasmine get the collective ax. Gone. Goodbye. Get out.

Nick Mitchell and Adam Lambert are the last men standing.

Last night, Nick writhed on the floor like an imbecile, and the nation laughed because they are easily pleased.

Adam was layers upon layers of fake and annoying, with black nail-polish and eyeliner and staring seductively at the camera and being a complete and utter gross tool. He sang the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” as it might be interpreted by Miss Liza Minnelli. Just fucking horrible in every conceivable regard. But the judges told America to love him, and America does as it’s told.

End result: Nick is leaving. Adam is staying. And I never thought that those two sentences, written together, would make me as nauseous as they do.

Next week, another 12 sing, including Blind Guy, Alex the Wiseass Nerd, Von Smith, Gay Jughead, Lil Rounds, and a slew of random girls who exist solely to insure that Lil Rounds gets the votes.


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