Travis Latin Grandma's group is singing "Say My Name," but they've changed the song to be this slow thing you clap to. They all just clap and sing, and someone keeps forgetting to sing his or her part and there are just patches of silence and clapping. Travis tells us he hopes the judges are going off personality and heart and not talent and ability. You better hope they're also going off bad fashion skills and not good ones. Travis informs us that, in a pop group, personality is "almost" more important than talent.
Don't we all care what happens to Alexandra? Here's her group. Some boy's hamming up his "Bye, Bye, Bye" solo. It gets to Alexandra. She mumbles a few words, stops, turns, and gives an unapologetic "I don't know this part. Sorry, guys." People want to kill Alexandra. Kill. They hate her like I've been hating her for months. They finally understand my rage. Some guy bitches that she fucked everything up and totally didn't care. When it all ends, the guys all walk over to Alexandra to touch her exposed flesh and titties one last time as the girl in the group walks off to buy a gun. In a split-screen, the girl with too much eye-shadow and oily skin that they keep showing us every week hugs Alexandra as Alexandra tells us that she gave it her all. She says she hopes the judges can see that. The split-screen Alexandra rubs eyeliner out of her eyeball, pulling the flesh on the right side of her face all the way down to her lip. I actually have to turn my head and go, "Whoa." Alexandra tells us that it's over. I look back. It's over.
Angel falls to the ground, and the narrator tells us it's over. It's over! In a week, the judges will call people and tell them whether they made it or not. That's next week. A guy tells us that nobody is going to be allowed to use his phone. Not even for the internet. He says if Jesus calls, he might pick up. PseudoTravis tells everyone that if they get called and they make it to L.A., their lives will change forever. Not to get too dramatic about it. All the kids dance and celebrate.
Next week, the kid who wears rags around his wrist answers the phone holding a cat. The judges call everyone. I think Vanessa's gonna get turned down! So will Alexandra! Whee! Next week rules! I thought they were supposed to drag out the process over eight weeks! Dammit. This is even faster than last season. I didn't get to know anybody. At this point last season, I at least had an idea who would get in and could cheer for people. I don't even like anyone so far. Oh, who cares. Nobody's watching this thing. Are you even reading? Did you get this far? Will you vote and tell me? Will you sign up for the mailing list? This is like writing a recap at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.