American Idol
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You Don't Have To Go Home, But You Can't Fame-Whore Here

For reasons unknown to anybody on earth, Marcus Butts gives himself a cheesy fake intro, before coming out in a sleeveless shirt and trucker hat, singing "Kansas City" over and over again. Randy says he might have enjoyed that performance in Vegas, but not for American Idol. Well, I guess Kelly Clarkson and Clay Aiken will be canceling that Vegas appearance on their tour coming up, then. Right? Right? We don't even hear Cassie LaBeau sing, because her voice is apparently drowned out by her loud outfit. Simon says she looks like she got dressed in the dark. With her black denim miniskirt, white hose, high-tops, and wrist wraps, she looks to me like she got dressed in the '80s. Speaking of loud, Jennifer Hudson is wearing a shiny, silver pantsuit. She's all set if Priscilla, Queen of the Desert suddenly breaks out onstage. Simon says her outfit looks like something you'd wrap a turkey in.

After they're all done, they have the all file back on stage so that Simon can toss hyperboles at them. If you can keep from rolling your eyes, you might make it to the final thirty-two. He says that the performances yesterday were the worst he had ever seen, ever, in the history of the world. Worse than Grease II. Worse than From Justin to Kelly. Well, maybe not that bad. However, he thinks they did a much better job today, and "raised the game" and blah blah blah talking-to-hear- myself-speak-cakes. So now it's time to figure out who makes it to the final thirty-two and who goes home.

Commercials. When we return, Ryan tells us all that they've got the kids isolated in three groups again. Love the studded belt, there, Ryan. Did we pull you away from The Eagle? Room #1 contains Matt Rogers, who reminds us that he was in the Rose Bowl. Roooose Boooowl! He also gets pissy about Simon's comment that he doesn't think he's taking the competition seriously, which again sets off my "asshole" radar. John's in this room, too. We get reminders that he kept forgetting words during the past couple of days. We get a clip of his final performance, "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." I really don't like his singing, the more that I hear of it. It has nothing to do with the alleged old-fashionedness of it. He sounds like he has trouble holding the notes steady, and there's no flow in his singing. He just sounds awkward and uncomfortable. He worries to us that he's going to get cut. Model Lisa is there, and we get some flashbacks of her adventures in incompetence. Oh god, I must have blocked out that shot of Alan beatboxing in the hot tub. The hell with Janet Jackson's nipple -- that clip should result in an investigation for indecency. Jon is going to milk that damned pen gimmick until somebody runs up and stabs him with one. The Roman brothers are in the room, too, and they replay their pointless comments from earlier. You know they're going to end up in the same final group together. And I predict that neither of them will make it to the final ten. Oh, I hope I didn't ruin it for you by mentioning that these folks are in. But since it's the first room, you know they've all made it, because there'd be no drama if they immediately made the cuts. The judges come down, and for the third season in the row, Simon pulls the "I'm sorry to tell you you're in the final thirty-two" shtick. The kids already know this routine and don't even react when he does the "sorry" part. They all bounce around and celebrate. Now Jesus and Noel are good brothers again. Everybody sings.

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American Idol

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