Sucking Major Ass in the Comfort Zone
American Idol Season 5 - 03-28-06

By MikeyMcBB
3/28/2006

Tonight's "Idol" sucked enormous moose ass, but at least it was only one hour of suckage. The theme for the night was ostensibly "Music of the 21st Century," but it ended up more like "An Evening of Shitty Performances of Shitty Songs that are Supposed to be in Your Comfort Zones."

It's no wonder Kelly Clarkson didn't want people to sing her songs on this show. She must've foreseen what that Tucker creature would do to her song. I never actually believed that the Clarkson-song ban came from her directly---it seems much more like a lawyer/agent/asshole record industry bigwig thing to do, but she should've enforced it and spared us the bleeding ears we suffered tonight. Hey Lisa Tucker!! If you can't sing a song without it turning into a nasally screech, then bring it down an octave. Or die. Here's a clue: When even Randy & Paula tell you you sucked it, it's time to slit your wrists. And you wear too much eye shadow. Die.

Pickler sings a country song. Color me stunned. But wait a minute, isn't this supposed to be her comfort zone? Should she really be sucking this hard? Randy: You sucked. Paula: You sucked. Simon: You are a fucking retarded lassoing rodeo hick cunt. Sod off. (I'm paraphrasing, but not much)

Well after those two, it couldn't get any worse, right?

Oh if only.

Next, Brett informs us that he's going to switch things up by doing something with more of a "rock edge." Then he proceeds to sing a song by Train. Fucking Train! That's like telling someone you're going to give them the best sex they've ever had in their life, only to thrust a flaccid cock in their belly button twice before falling asleep. Not only does he sing a tiny limp cock of a song, but he sings it really badly. During the song, there is a line about having a scar, and he pulls his shirt open to reveal a scar. Perhaps this is the "edge" of which he spoke. ASS! I'm sure there's an Anthony Federov tracheotomy scar joke to be made in here somewhere, but I'm too disgusted to think of it. Randy continues with the "Man, you fucking sucked!" theme of the night, while Paula is all aquiver over his scar and wants to hear how he got it. Simon correctly assumes she means "Tell me all about it after you fuck me later," and tells her to hose herself down. He also tells Brett his karaoke shit sucked it hard. Ryan asks if Brett got the scar during a knife fight with the Crips, but no, it was some kind of banal auto-erotic asphyxiation/basketball scenario. I find Brett's brother much more attractive than Brett, but that may be because I've never heard him talk or sing. Much like Dave Navarro talked his stupid ass off my wish list last summer during "Rock Star," Brett has made it completely impossible for me to want to fuck him. And for that, he should die.

Next up is Spazzy McGrayFuck, who comes out babbling about his "legion of fans," who apparently call themselves the "soul patrol." Nothing I add could make that any more ridiculous. So Spazzy tells us he's singing some song called "Trouble" by IDon'tKnow WhotheFuck because it will show off his vocal range. But the song only appears to have 5 notes, and even fewer words, so I don't know what his idea of range is. He's not completely awful, so considering what atrocities came before, the judges lavish him with praise. Simon goes completely off the rails by comparing Spazzy's outfit to something Clay Aiken would wear. This is completely off-base because Spazzy is wearing men's clothes.

Next, Mandisa comes out and starts singing some gospel shit. Clearly she is filled with Christ's love, which, frankly, I could do without. But she's better than the first four assholes, so she'll be okay. Randy is still not happy, but Paula starts babbling about "the Church of Mandisa," so obviously the booze is starting to kick in. Simon says "God? I don't get it." Amen.

Now we have Chris, intently discussing with Ryan the preposterous nationwide conniption that ensued over his doing a Live-style version of "I Walk the Line" last week, without saying that it was in the style of Live. Chris says "I love Live! I worship Live! If Live were here right now, I'd masturbate them all to orgasm!" Then he sings a fucking Creed song. The song sucks and so does he. Randy: You sucked! Paula: I'm a whore, let's fuck. Simon: Fuck you, Baldy, you suck. Simon has the gall to denounce Chris for singing the same kind of song every fucking week. Isn't this where we insert a montage of Simon complimenting Chris after every single other performance for "knowing who he is" and "not compromising?!" Simon, sometimes you're the biggest twat of all.

Speaking of big twats, Christina Aguilera appears next, cleverly disguised as an off-key Katharine McPhee. At least I think she's horribly horribly off-key during most of the Xtina song, but the judges piss all over themselves lavishing her with praise. Maybe it's just me. But I doubt it.

Next on "Nashville Star"....oh wait, this is still "Idol." But Cletus is singing some damn Tim McGraw piece of shit, so it's hard to tell the difference. Much like Pickler, Cletus sucks even harder at what he's supposed to be good at. Through a drunken haze of slurred speech, Paula tells Cletus that he needs to enunciate better, thereby providing a beautiful vision of irony that you just can't find in an Alanis Morissette song.

My teeth immediately start to ache when Ryan introduces Paris as "Princess P." She proceeds to do an alarming bump & grind to a Beyonce song. I guess we should just be grateful she didn't do "My Humps." Randy and Paula fall all over themselves heaping praise on her (to which she mutters "Think You" like an annoying little chipmunk whore). Simon returns to being the sole voice of reason, denouncing her as a talentless shrew doomed to fail at everything in life (again, I paraphrase).

Obviously, the show is running long, because there's much less pointless Semencrest blather/banter than usual. If there's a silver line on this dark cloud of shit, less Ryan airtime would be it.

At last, our long dark night of the soul-less is almost over, as Eliot takes the stage for the final performance of the night. He does a "funky soulful" version of the theme from "One Tree Hill." It's nothing to shoot a load over, but it's the only performance of the night that tries to be different from the original version, so it's better than Bo Bice's version last year. Paula calls him "a funky white boy." Still, Eliot remains one of the ugliest people God ever put in front of a camera, so I can only look at the screen for seconds at a time.

Phew. What a steaming pile! I don't know what the theme for next week is, but it sure would be nice if they'd find a way to give us back the last hour of our lives. Plus the 1/2 hour we'll lose tomorrow night to watch the results, with special guest skank Shakira. Plus the 1/2 hour we'll spend watching Unan1mous. Plus the hour I spent writing this. Plus.... ah fuck it.

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