Top 11: Results

You say goodbye, and I say good riddance

by Frank Pittarese

So much time, so little content. Tonight, we find out who makes it into the Top 10, winning the dubious honor of being part of the tour. Along the way, well, there's a whole lot of nothing. This is American Idol. I buried Paul.

If any of you have been pulling your hair out by its roots, wondering who this season's musical mentors will be, you can finally relax. Dolly Parton, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Neil Diamond, and Mariah Carey will all appear to guide our little droogies to new levels of musical mediocrity. As for themes, I'm guessing Country Week, Broadway Week, Old Folks Week and Hootchie Week respectively. I can't wait.

Also, the songwriting competition has begun. Last year, some holy dudes wrote the winning "This is My Now" which Jordin Sparks sang on her album, which has now been certified gold. That's only 500,000 copies. I just checked. How many people watch this show again? Like humpty-million? American Idol certainly is the ladder to success. Regarding the songwriting competition: this show aired on March 19th. The deadline to enter the competition is March 31st. So the quality of the winning song is sure to be outstanding.

Group Sing. Little David's guitar is gentle weeping, because its father yelled at it for forgetting its lyrics. David Cook and Jason Dreadlock's floor needs sweeping, on account of the hairballs the two of them have been coughing up. Brooke White is here, there, and everywhere. Ramiele is nowhere, because her microphone isn't on. Because the world is round, everybody gets turned on. I try not to think about that too much, on account of how half of the Idols are in grammar school. Amanda sings about what happens in the end, when the love you take is equal to the love you make. For a certain...somebody, it's also equal to not going on the Idol tour.

Season Five's Kevin Covais is in the audience, looking like he's just been birthed from the womb of Woody Allen. The studly fellow next to him turns out to be Season Three's Jon Peter Lewis, who spent most of his season looking like a Hobbit. Who knew?

The results begin...

Brooke White is thankfully safe. I heart her.

Carly Smithson is in the bottom three. She remains Irish.

Little David Archuleta is safe. Gargamel stomps his feet in frustration.

Michael Johns is safe, cocky, and boring all at once. He's a triple threat, this one.

Next is a behind-the-scenes look at the Ford Ad shoot. I'm sorry. Ford Music Video shoot. The description I now write will cover every behind-the-scenes in creation, so pay close attention: a bunch of people took some cameras, went to a place, and filmed a bunch of other people doing stuff. The end. I just saved you from spending a fortune on Special Edition DVDs. You can thank me later.

Ford Ad (because that's what it fucking is). To the tune of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by The Clash. It's a black-and-white period piece. The Idols are having an outdoor picnic when a flying saucer appears. They jump into their modern Ford vehicles to escape. The saucer fires laser beams, because even aliens hate these people. Another saucer shows up. The Idols pull over, where it's revealed that... wait for it...Little David and Jason Dreadlock have been working the saucers, which are on strings, as directed by "filmmaker" David Cook. So it's a movie within a movie. Genius!

David Cook is safe from elimination. He don't give a care if Simon don't like him.

Kristy Lee Cook (no relation) is in the bottom three. Sell my pony, what a surprise!

Jason Castro is safe. This will not encourage him to wash that scuzzy head of his.

Ramiele Malubay is safe. Seriously? She's slowly becoming this year's Sanjaya. But...okay.

Next is the Q&A session. I'm not recapping it because it's pretaped, and I won't tolerate such shenanigans. I like my filler live or not at all.

Then Kellie Pickler comes back from the dead and sings some country song. Fast forward time. Zippity-zap. Goodbye to Kellie, her fake boobs, and her possible eye-lift.

Idol Gives Back. This is the Results Show, is it not? Just checking. Elliott Yamine and Fantasia Barrino have been sent to Africa to walk among the poor and unfortunate. They show us how last year's donations provided bed nets to protect people from malaria-carrying mosquitos. Millions of dollars donated and they're getting...bed nets. How about, I dunno, putting roofs on top of these shacks? Maybe some actual glass windows? Or a door? Let me not get ahead of myself. The IGB event is still some weeks away and I will rant aplenty at that time. Fantasia sings "Amazing Grace" to some children. That's got to be better than a sandwich, wouldn't you agree? Elliott and Fantasia are escorted to the hospital where they learn that some lady has given birth. She is going to name the kid Elliott. Am I supposed to be inspired by this in some way? The lady gets a bed net. This is just like that Oprah where everybody got cars. I want a bed net! Speaking of Oprah, hey O, how about building these people some fucking roofs?

Syesha Mercado is safe. She is my nemesis.

Chikezie is in the Top 10. That's fine.

Amanda Overmyer is in the bottom three.

Results. Carly is declared safe. She walks over to the Top 10 stools. Kristy is safe. Amanda is goin' home.

Flashback of Amanda Overmyer. Paula loving, loving, loving her audition. Golden ticket. Devil horns while riding a Harley. Devil horns on the Idol stage. Devil horns on the red carpet, with some Gene Simmons-type tongue action. Amanda always brought such decorum to these proceedings. Looking disappointed after selling out by singing Joan Jett. Meeting REO Speedwagon guy. Ramiele being like, "Oreo Speedwhat?!?" Amanda sticking out her tongue at every opportunity. "It's been a pretty fun ride," says she. I'm glad it’s over, says me.

Amanda sings herself out, again managing to fumble the lyrics to "Back in the U.S.S.R." I learned them when I was twelve. They're not that difficult.

Next week, the Top 10 perform songs from the year in which they were born. I guess that means Michael Johns will sing a little Elvis.

Honey, disconnect the phone...
-Frank