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Season 7: Finale Night

Spoiler alert: David wins

by Frank Pittarese

The two Davids stand under a spotlight, having a staring contest. The camera goes round and round. I think this show is trying to hypnotize me into caring, but it's too late. "What does it look like when the country's number one show reaches its critical mass?" It looks like it's time for me to watch So You Think You Can Dance. That's what it looks like. This is American Idol. With great power comes great responsibility.

Tonight's Results Show, as always, is two hours long. That's a lot of time to kill, seeing as how the reading of the actual results only takes about twenty seconds. And tonight, time isn't merely killed. It is thrown into a pit, covered in lotion, and turned into a suit for Jame Gumb. Speaking of suits, Randy has borrowed his from the late, great Captain Kangaroo. I'm not even kidding.


American Idol Randy Jackson Captain Kangaroo
Randy Jackson is a dope Captain Kangaroo.

Season 4 big mouth, Mikalah Gordon and Season 3 lard ass, Matt Rogers are reporting from each of the David's hometowns, where masses of humanity have gathered to bear witness to this exercise in monotony. Matt is surrounded by a horde of skinny blonde girls, but a wide shot reveals that he and the horde are standing in a sea of actual people, with real faces and normal bodies. I think I even see a person of color. The Barbies have been planted around Matt, like the Sorority Girls of the Aryan Mosh Pit. I'd express my disgust in greater detail, but there's a lot of ground yet to cover. With that said, that's the last you'll hear about Mikalah and Matt.

The Top 12 come out and sing "Get Ready" by the Temptations. They're all wearing white, like they've all just died and their ghosts have gathered for one final, awkward performance. The choreography consists of two moves: arm-swaying, followed by arm-swaying. The So You Think You Can Dance-ers stand on the sidelines and pretty much do the same. Arm to the left, arm to the right. Janice Dickenson and her rubber face scream "I love you!" from the audience.

David Cook sings something that sounds like a Nickelback song, but everything he sings sounds like that. By the time Little David steps out and turns the thing into a duet, I realize it is a Nickelback song, sort of. It's "Hero." Chad Kroeger recorded it for the Spider-Man movie. Anyway, it's a romantic performance from our boys.

Then there's a fifteen minute infomercial for Mike Myers' The Love Guru. Aside from watching some terribly unfunny footage, Davidx2 chat with Myers, who remains in-character as Guru Pitka or whatever the fuck, the whole time. Then he appears on stage for some painful schtick. And I am telling you, I'm not going to see this film.

Syesha Mercado performs "Waiting for You." With Seal, of all people. Doesn't he have a legitimate career? It sounds perfectly fine, but I take advantage of the time to poke around the kitchen for something tasty.

Jason Castro returns to sing "Hallelujah." Zippity-zip, what's next?

Cook and Archuleta each get a Ford Hybrid as a door prize. Does Archie have a license? Seacrest confirms, yes, he has a license. Now he can drive down to West Hollywood to buy CDs...or whatever.

The Top 6 girls sing a Donna Summer medley. They all sing about working hard for the money, so hard for it honey. Amanda looks like she'd rather be in a malaria-ridden hut in Africa than dancing on this stage to this music with these idiots. She stomps around with a pickle-puss, and then mumble-fumbles her solo in "Hot Stuff." Then Miss Donna Summer herself comes out to sing her new single, "Stamp Your Feet." This woman used to sing about sex and prostitutes, and now she's singing about stamping. It's sad, really. Donna needs to get herself a new wig. She looks like Rick James. Of course, she closes with "Last Dance," because if she stops singing that song, America will kill her.

Commercials. I'd sooner believe that a secret society of peg-legged leprechauns lives below the streets of New York City than even entertain the notion that Carrie Underwood plays with a Nintendo DS.

Carly Smithson and Michael Johns perform "The Letter" by the Box Tops as a sassy, soulful duet. It's quite good. The two work well together. They're like Donny & Marie Internationál.

Jimmy Kimmel comes out to make wisecracks about the show. That’s my job, Kimmel. Shouldn't you be fucking Ben Affleck?

Michael Johns starts off a Bryan Adams medley. "Summer of '69." Dare I hope? When I was about 18 years old, I was a huge Bryan Adams fan. Saw him during the Reckless tour. My first concert. Okay, stop laughing. Stripper David joins in. I can never remember that guy's last name. Jason Castro has one line which he can't keep in tune. The two Davids emerge from backstage to sing "Heaven." How did I never see their gay chemistry before tonight? They're like Joanie and Chachi when they sing together. Then Bryan Adams appears. Yay for me! I don't know this song. Turns out he has a new album out...a Wal Mart exclusive?!? What the fuck? That's twice this week I've been stiffed by a Wal-Mart exclusive. We ain't got 'em in New York City. Limewire, here I come. If Bryan has a problem with that, he can call me. (Please call me.) He looks good for his age, and the new tune is more of his old school rocker thing than his Robin Hood ballad thing. Then he sings "Somebody." I'm sure the Aryan Sorority Girls have no idea who this old guy is or what's going on, and that pleases me because I hate them.

David Cook sings lead on ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man." Oh, and he's also singing with ZZ Top. This ain't bad. He's in his element here.

Brooke White (awww), sings "Teach Your Children Well" with Graham Nash. It's lovely, if a bit on the hippie-dippy side. If they burst into a verse of "If I Had a Hammer," I would not be surprised.

Commercials. David Cook recreates the Tom Cruise, "Old Time Rock and Roll" scene from Risky Business. Crystal egg on the mantelpiece and all. He's trying to sell us on Guitar Hero, but I'm too busy looking at his legs to pay attention. There isn't a hint of underwear, though. I think they sticky-taped his shirt tails to his crotch.

The Jonas Brothers sing some pop song of theirs. I've been ogling them...well, two of them...for awhile now, but I haven't heard them sing a peep till tonight. They're a little bit Click Five meets High School Musical. That's my speed, but they're also holy, and that scares me.

After a Clipfest of Memorable Rejects, Renaldo Lapuz takes the stage. He's the guy with the feathered hat and the cape. "I am your brother/your best friend forever." Yeah, that guy. He gets the royal treatment: USC cheerleaders, a marching band, Paula and Randy up on stage. It does go on, but if this is what's replacing our traditional Idol Awards ceremony, I can deal.

OneRepublic shows up to sing their hit song, "Apologize." It's a duet with David Archuleta, but I can't even listen to it. See, a couple of months ago, I was trying to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon. That's what I do. Then some idiot pulled up in front of my neighbor's building, blasting this song on his car stereo. Every time it got to the chorus ("It's too late to apologize..."), he'd crank it way up, to the point where my windows vibrated. I'm on the third floor. He did this for twenty minutes. I'd have called the police but my neighbors would have put a hit out on me, and I don't have time for that crap. So yeah, this song...bad memories of a nap gone wrong.

Jordin Sparks sings a song that I guess she's recorded. I don't know.

Filler. Remember that time Celine Dion sang a duet with Dead Elvis? This year, they've taken old Gladys Knight footage and digitally replaced the Pips with Ben Stiller, Jack Black, and Robert Downey Jr. They dance and sing back up, and if you think that's funny, or if any of those guys are funny, there's a good chance you and I will never be friends.

Carrie Underwood comes out and sings something while her vagina keeps trying to show itself.

Commericals. Little David gets his Risky Business/Guitar Hero moment. They dressed him in boxer shorts, to make it abundantly clear that he is in no way close to, or in consideration of, being anywhere near nude under his shirt. Not that it matters. He's still going to open a bordello in his house while his parents are away.

The Top 12 gather one last time (well, one last time before the tour) to sing a medley of George Michael songs. The girls open with "Faith," and everybody is having fun--except Amanda, who can't be bothered to even learn the lyrics. The boys come out to sing "Father Figure." Stripper David gets to sing the line, "For just one moment, to be bold and naked..." Somebody over there has a sweet sense of humor. Everybody joins forces for "Freedom," an awesome song which, miraculously, they do not mess up. Then George Michael himself steps forth to sing "Praying For Time." It's a beautiful song but it's about thirty minutes long.

Results. Seriously. Results. Any last words from the judges? Randy is happy the two Davids are standing there. They're both winners. Paula: "It's the beginning of the start of the destinies of your career." I'm going to miss those insights. Simon congratulates the Davids, then apologizes to Cook for being mean to him last night. He can say whatever he wants now that the votes have been cast.

And the winning David is... Cook! Wow. Really? Great blindside, there. Not as good as Whitney winning Top Model, but still. Cheering and screaming erupts. Cook applauds for Little David, who scampers over to stand by the other ten losers. Cook cries. His mom cries. His geeky-hot brother cries.

Then David sings the actual winning song from this year's competition, "The Time of My Life." It has lyrics like, "Looking for that magic rainbow..." and "I'm out on the edge of forever, ready to roll..." In other words, it's "A Moment Like This Is My Now is the Time of My Life." I think monkeys write these songs. Gay monkeys.

The credits roll, and another season comes to a merciful end. Thanks, as always, to Dave for giving me this soapbox here on Maximum Awesome. Writing about this show is better than talking about it. People are less likely to think I'm crazy. Thanks also to my buddy Bill and to Deb from the forums, for reading these recaps every week and saying nice things about them. And special thanks to my own Wootini, for letting me steal his jokes all season long. Love ya!

Now to find those leprechauns below the city...
-Frank

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