Jerry informs us that the next act has an "exceptional voice," which is so sneaky, because it could be any of the four remaining competitors. Oh Jerry, you tease when we have no time to tease! We're on a schedule here! Donald Braswell's well-coiffed head fills the screen and we know he is next. His hair is looking very exceptional tonight--soft, but aerodynamic. His dreams are becoming a reality. He is so close to his dream. He is going to fight. He is going to win. He is going to sing Josh Groban. Again. I'm going to go slam my head in my front door for the next five minutes. The Donald starts to sing before the stage is even lit. Ol' Smokey is cranking, and the stage is clouded with smog. He's looking dapper and there's a choir onstage offering backing vocals. He is meh. Better than me, but still meh. "You Raise Me Up" may have brought fame and fortune to Josh Groban, but coming on the tails of Nuttin' But Stringz's dynamic performance it sounds incredibly old, dated, and schmaltzy. Sharon mysteriously gets to start the judging. She thinks he was nice. Very nice. But his voice is nicer than his personality (ouch!) and he belongs in musical theater (double ouch!). She congratulates him on getting this far in the competition. The Hoff totally disagrees. He thinks The Donald brought it tonight. He is ready to go to church. Donald Braswell found his niche bringing the wicked back to the fold. Piers finally gets his two cents. He thought the last note was awful (agreed), but that The Donald brought a great story to the show, and whatever happens The Donald has lived a dream he never thought he would live again. Piers thanks him for proving the judges wrong and America right. Jerry reminds us how to vote. The Donald and his divine hair bid farewell.