See, the thing is that I don't recap Ben Stiller. I'm never going to do it, you know this, and you're not sweetening the deal with Hank Azaria either. The man looks like lunch now. These execrable Night At The Museum promotional appearances and synergy are the new I Will Not Be Seeing That Film After All ingredients. And then you got Bill Hader, who's untouchable, standing next to a scary red blister that used to be Jonah Hill until he cut off all its hair, where apparently the magic resides. Jonah Hill is Felicity, apparently.
Did not see that one coming. Seth Rogan lost the weight equivalent of a busload of third graders and I didn't even blink, but Jonah! The hair! Over on the couches they're all wearing somber dark colors and Danny's staring ridiculously at nothing; down in the audience, a girl desperately makes the heart symbol Danny has decided to incorporate into seeing just how empty and fake-sentimental he can be. Pimpmercial: The boys become cartoons on a New York street, have rubber arms. The song is "Break My Stride," by Mathew Wilder, a song toward which I have always felt a certain warmth. This might happen during an eclipse. They are subsequently attacked by wild dogs.
Whenever I think that word "warmth" my first impulse is always to say it all weird like Sloan Peterson ("whumpth"), but I only lose control of it when I'm drunk. But you can bet if I ever type it, I've just said it out loud about ten times and I'm probably still impressed with myself. Next up... Oh Christ. Are you serious? Alicia Keys, too? This was already the worst thing that ever happened, with Katy Perry coming down the pike, we have to listen to Alicia Keys try to pull us into some kind of Ponzi scheme with texting on your phone and then a little boy from Rwanda sings some song, and it's hilarious because he has a crazy accent and is dressed in stupid American clothes and not dirt, and then he does a dance. This is ... racist.
I mean, I am checked out like a John Irving hardcover tonight. I'm really sorry if I'm being weird but I mean what the fuck? I can remember feeling like Wednesday night was mostly filler and that was when it was only a half hour. This is just like, fifteen unrelated bullshitty things they throw at you, and Danny Gokey talking and all that. The only way you can possibly render a Gokey/Keys/Perry triple threat is by having a Kris/Adam finale, and that's about as realistic as Jordin Sparks's next single being awesome.