I didn't watch last week but I heard it was pretty fucked up. Either Casey acted nasty and gross, or was weird and 19. One of those categories, we already knew he was. The other I don't really believe. There's an insanely long thing about what happened last week, in slow motion, and it looks pretty shitty. I don't think that would have been a very good birthday gift, Ryan. I don't think so at all.
On the up, though, two of these dorks are going home tomorrow and there's no more of that dumb Judge Save crap to look forward to. So in the final analysis, even if it turns America on my man Casey like a pack of mean dogs, I don't really mind. This last week has been a whole dolce far niente, but now it's time to care. Not a challenge to which I am up.
In the audience tonight we have Heather Morris. Maybe she will do a little dance for everybody. I love watching that woman dance more than just about anything in the world. Or maybe she will rip off her shirt and toss Ryan Seacrest into the crowd. I hope he will be okay when that happens.
Old McDonald is wearing that goddamn jacket again, and it looks like Naima is actually wearing a matching pantsuit. I barely remember these people from two weeks ago.
CAN YOU FEEL THE SMUG TONIGHT?
Remember Elton John? He used to be really interesting, I remember when I was a kid he was super interesting to me. He seemed tiny, and I was obsessed with tiny people. I still love a good tiny person, they just make me feel nice. Wonderwall, I'm lookin' at you.
I used to mix Elton up with Paul Williams, which now that I'm saying it to you seems like a particularly cruel or childlike thing to say. I can remember the day I asked my dad why his songs were so good, but the words were so dumb, and he says sadly, like he knew this day was coming, "Remember that guy you always stare at and ask his name? Bernie Taupin?"
When I was a little kid I thought every singer wrote all their songs and lyrics, and played the instruments themselves. Like Joni Mitchell or Prince, the other two musicians I knew about. I thought my father wrote all of James Taylor's songs for probably the first ten years of my life.
I had no idea Bernie Taupin wrote those dumb ass words. I just assumed he was his husband or something.
I was raised by an army of grad students, I don't know if that helps explain anything.
They do this Entertainment Weekly photo shoot that is pretty ridic, but any establishment that employs both Jessica Shaw and Lisa Schwartzbaum is not a company I am interested in promoting, no matter how much I like Ken Walczak.