American Idol
Top 4 — The King Is Gone (So Are You)

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Black Velvet Inability To Smile
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Tuesday

Ryan in a lovely slate-gray three-piece lets us know that in two weeks, two "ordinary" people will sing for 50 million Americans, the show will be broadcast in thirty-four countries, and the winner will be a "superstar." I can't argue the numbers, but the rest of that is lies. Everybody boos Simon again; Randy is an idiot for involving himself in those stupid cartoony games. We'll be singing two Elvis songs tonight; I'm guessing a fast one and a slow one. Here's the thing: I love Elvis. His music, I mean. But "fast," with Elvis, can often go to the "For The Love Of Money" place that I hate so much. And that this show likes to visit as often as possible. So I'm a little scared, because I want to enjoy myself moderately much, and I can't do that if we're going to get Taylor singing crap like, I don't know. "Jailhouse Rock" or "Heartbreak Hotel." I don't like listening to them as songs personally, but I don't have a problem acknowledging their purpose in this world. But that doesn't mean it's all that cool to sing them on this show, where the whole point is that we see you singing songs. If you sing an obscure song, you run the risk of getting us lost in it and trying to figure out its shape, but if you sing a played-out song, you're going to be overwhelmed by it, like a paper-plate mask of Elvis's face in front of your real face. That's like the Mariah Carey Corollary.

The Idols flew to Graceland after Paris's cute little ouster, and Chris acted like a prat on the plane, all, "Graceland, Baby!" And whatever, when you put a person with this little reality or personality under any kind of stress, they're going to react by digging deeper into whatever fake persona they've cooked up. They arrive -- in a very glamorous minivan -- and give autographs to some people, and Taylor says in a robotic artistic voice as they're driving up, "The birthplace of rock and roll." I don't even know what he fucking means by that. I do know that Priscilla Presley is so fucking scary, I can't even believe it. She creeps around the house like a cat burglar, with the hunched back and the dangling Nosferatu hands, and her hair is the color of blood, and her eyes have no irises, and she's terrifying with a scary grin, and she's all points and spikes and creepiness. But that's just the visual: she's totally sweet and down to earth and kind of hippie-ish about how she watches the show so she's "kind of" been on their "journey." She laughs kind of desperately and takes them in to meet Tommy Mottola. Who is now John Waters. The two of them being all, "Come into our parlor!" is so scary to me. Priscilla tells them Elvis would love American Idol. I agree. Kat hides behind Taylor so Tommy Mottola won't marry her. The only people he didn't marry were Hall & Oates, and I can't even confirm that for sure. Be smart, Kat. Marry Tommy Mottola, end up in your underwear on TRL. I learned that the hard way.

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American Idol

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