chicken little

Well, I am shocked. It looks like Kevin's pact with the Devil is up, and he has finally been eliminated. I assume this means that the Devil will now collect on Kevin's soul and he will have to travel to Hell, spending eternity burning in the flames of everlasting darkness. I'm confused if that's how it actually works because in every "sell your soul to the Devil" movie I've ever seen, somehow the Devil is tricked into giving the person their soul back. (Which is a little unfair to the Devil, don't you think? I mean, the guy's got a business to run and people keep breaching their contracts.) I'm sure Kevin will somehow weasel his way out of his pact as well. Most likely, the Chicken Little people already have Kevin trademarked and will threaten copyright infringement upon the Devil if he collects on his soul. Alas, the Devil gets screwed again.

A few weeks back, I talked a lot of crap about contestants who blamed their poor Hollywood Week performances on being sick. Well, I take it all back. I'm sick with a capital "ICK." I've OD'ed on NyQuil, and (unlike Paula) I think it would be wrong to slur my way through evaluations that include references to moths and salads. So, I apologize in advance for the brief commentary and the lackluster witicisms that are as stale as Ryan's running "Kevin is a stud muffin" gag.

Just like Elliott, I've never been a Fanilow, but...

Well, this was unexpected. I mean, I certainly thought that Ace would land himself in the bottom three eventually, but not during the first week. Yeah, I know -- he wasn't that great last night. But isn't being incredibly attractive enough? I say yes. At this point, I've already made up my mind as to whom I want to win (Chris Daughtry). So I say, let's keep Ace around as eye candy. Taylor? He's not candy. Elliott? He's not even a tootsie roll. We need Ace, so vote for him!

And why was Lisa Tucker part of the loser sandwich? Surely, people liked her better than Bucky. The one thing I love about American Idol is that they turn surprises like this into life lessons for the viewer. Seacrest waves his little finger at us in disgust -- "It's all your fault, America. Remember, you gotta vote or this is what happens." We're trying to vote, Seacrest. We can't get through! It's the 5th hit season...get more phone lines! And while you're getting more phone lines, rent Stevie a real piano. The man is a legend, and you've got him rocking out on a 1980s electric keyboard. I'm surprised they didn't just rent him that giant jumping keyboard from Big. I'm sure Taylor knows how to play one of those.

So Melissa is out. Yawn. I know that some of you really like her, but I never got it. To me, she's the poor man's version of Mariah Carey. The more important question is -- who's voting for Kevin? You jerks.  

Being in the Final 12 means that you get to perform on the big stage, in front of the big crowd, with the big fancy lights. This is the AI equivalent of getting to sit at the adult table at Thanksgiving. No more of that kids' table crap. It's the big show with the bigger band and the souped-up sound system.

But there was no souped-up sound system in my apartment tonight.