Blake, the perfect, sings "I'm Still Standing" next. Zach Woodlee hugs himself happily, having just prepped himself by taking a tab of ecstasy. He was great, but the female writer felt like "we were missing his wound." That's your job as a writer, though, isn't it? To write a character? Can't someone just be well-adjusted and a good actor? Guess not.
Aylin's performance of "Fighter" is last. I might venture to say that next to Ali's, it was the worst of the night. No, Lily's was pretty bad, too. I don't know, I hate them all after their dramatic improv. The writers agree that "America is curious about Muslim cultures," and that they've never had a Muslim character before. Acting ability aside.
The writers caucus, and the lady writer said she's most excited to write for Aylin, and Michael "popped" in the video (did you mean Blake?). They discussed Ali and Lily a bit, too, and it just reminded me of how much they would have loved Shanna. Then Ryan asked an interesting question.
"Do you feel that we have an obligation to sort of do something on the show that we haven't done before, or do you think that we have an obligation to pick a star?" Ryan asked. One writer tentatively suggested that they need to pick a star, hoping that that was the right answer Ryan was looking for. Then Ryan, feeling bitchy and bombastic, suggests eliminating two or three contestants. I am loving this Ryan tonight, even without his belted pleather trench.
The list goes up, and I wonder if they posted one really low so Ali could read it? I guess she just had to look up. They all have little acting moments before it's revealed that Michael and Lily were not called back. Divine. That decision reaffirmed my faith in reality television. Next week is the season finale, and there will only be one winner. That's why Michael went home this week, because there can only be one Blake. At the very end, a title screen read, "In Memory of Jeff Christopherson" and I cannot think of a worse tribute to a human life. I'm sorry, Jeff Christopherson, whoever you are, unless you just love crappy acting and dramatic improv, and fake movie trailers based on songs by Pink.