Missy Elliott! She's one of the hottest-selling female artists of all time! She's also an established record producer; a five-time Grammy award winner; star of many cool and trippy videos featuring large quill pens, giant puffy suits, and cornfields; and lollipop enthusiast. And now, inspired, we might assume, by the multiple threat that is Tyra Banks, Missy is star and producer of her own reality show, which is a search for "America's next music sensation." And what with Fantasia Barrino burning up the airwaves, I'm not sure if America might be sensationed-out by now. But Missy is looking for "an all-around artist who can not only perform, but write original songs as well." Something tells me that this bodes well for lyrics featuring the words "baby" and "boo." Out of thousands who auditioned, only thirteen performers were chosen to go on tour with and "be mentored" by Missy. The winner will receive a recording contract with Missy's label, Gold Mine Inc., a released single, and $100,000. Not too shabby. A cute Missy, wearing an Adidas hat and sitting on a stool, tells us, "But you gotta be hot. 'Cause if you ain't hot, then it's not goin' down. Heh heh." Oh, Missy. Why did you have to win my love forty-five seconds into the show?!? It makes it so hard to retain my objectivity.
Missy says that some of the contestants had talent. At this, we see the supremely untalented-seeming Matthew singing a song about dancing to his song, and Brooklyn rapper Frank B., who comes out with the kind of amazing lyric "If you ain't in charge, I'd like to speak to your boss/ I'm like a dentist, you should watch me, I can teach you to floss." That must be from the song "Once Daily," which appears on the album, Spit Into My Sink, Yo (Good Hygiene Ain't for Suckas), which he released under the pseudonym of "Oral B." Missy then says that some of the contestants just gave her a headache, and should have stayed home. We see a rather husky girl whose size 3xx shirt says, "Ain't no shame in my game," rap about her love of Fruity Pebbles. Whatever, Missy. Fruity Pebbles are totally delicious and arguably superior to Pebbles of the Cocoa variety. Let the girl sing. There is also a guy who wears a necktie and does some song about chickens. Missy just shakes her head.
After the auditions, Missy -- whose weight-loss method can be summed up by one tidbit of advice: "Eat lollipops constantly" -- and her manager, Mona Scott, brought an unspecified number of finalists to New York City. Missy tells us that, to be a star, in her mind, "You have to have some kind of talent." I think one Mrs. Kevin Federline might have something to say about that. Missy says that you also have to be original, to be a leader and not necessarily a follower, and to have drive to overcome the obstacles in your way. At this, we see bits of the contestants performing in the finals, some of whom seem reasonably good, and some of whom seem kind of terrible. In the end, the thirteen chosen were: Akil, age twenty-three, from Jersey City; Deltrice, twenty-three, from San Francisco; Melissa, nineteen, from Plymouth, Minnesota; Eddie, twenty-five, from New Orleans; Cori, twenty-one, from Orlando; Matthew, twenty-five, from Orlando; Jessica, twenty-three, from Chicago; Heather, twenty-two, from Boston; Marcus, twenty-four, from Houston; Frank B., twenty-one, from Brooklyn; Nic, twenty-nine ["guh? Get a job, grandpa!" -- Wing Chun], from Aliso Viejo, California; the improbably named Yelawolf, twenty-four, from the improbably named Rainbow City, Alabama; and Nilyne, from Plainfield, New Jersey.